


Transgressions

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blowjobs, Bottom Castiel, Cock Rings, Come Swapping, Edging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Foreskin Play, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming, Sastiel - Freeform, Season 8, Season 9, Top Sam, Watching Porn Together, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:18:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4500459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has to be like this.  Deep, abiding, complete - because they may not get another chance to be together.  Deep-seated devotion requires every attention to each other, no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transgressions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fluidtime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluidtime/gifts).



> I know what you are all thinking.
> 
> Oh look, more Sastiel porn. Hasn't he done Sastiel porn before? Well, yes I have, many times. Except now i am better at it than ever before and I'd like to think it shows. I've been doing this for a while now, and for the time being, this is the bar I've set for myself.
> 
> Besides, the prompt for this fic was "edging" - I did put that in here, along with a whole bunch of other stuff. (sighs as I remember the days when I could write something short and sweet)
> 
> Anyway, this is for Marika - whose fic "Playing Normal" has caused no small amount of uncomfortable boners/me thinking about Sam and Cas blowing each other in the shower when I'm supposed to be contributing to society. I'd say shame on you but there should never be shame felt over Sastiel porn.
> 
> Ever.
> 
> THIS IS ESTABLISHED SASTIEL. IF YOU DO NOT LIKE IT, I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANY SNIDE REMARKS ABOUT "oh I'm normally into seeing the beginning blah blah blah" - tough diddlyhoppin' lizards. I do check to see what sort of things are said about my work. Those sorts of remarks aggravate me to no end.

            _Click-hum._

_Click-hum._

_Click-hum._

Since when are microfilm readers so noisy? 

            _Click-hum._

            Sam looks around to make sure he’s not disturbing anyone. The same as two hours ago, there isn’t another soul in this part of the library.  It’s amusing, really, that such a small county has such a large library.  It’s three stories tall, made of limestone and old leather on the inside.  Of course it’s likely the ONLY one in the county but that’s okay – it has exactly what Sam needs.  That includes a rather large microfilm collection, documenting most every event that’s occurred in the town’s history.

            Sam’s found what he needed – eyewitness accounts of a murder-suicide that had led to not one but two ghosts reigning havoc for the last twenty five years – and now he’s just reading for the sake of reading.  Each small town has its own storied history, as Sam’s found.  As it’s not that likely he’ll return, he may as well absorb what he can before he and Dean go on a ghost hunt that night.  Besides, it’s cool in here and it’s miserably hot outside; Tennessee in the summertime is an uncomfortably warm place. 

            Some part of Sam tells him that he should be glad for the heat, seeing as how for the last few months he’s been bone-chilling cold.  The Trials are fucking with his body temperature so badly that it’s truly a wonder he’s not dropped to the ground.

            This saving the world business is getting to be more and more tiresome.

            Sam comes to the end of the film and takes it out, placing it gently back in the case before moving on to the next one.  1989 was an interesting year in Maynardville and Sam intends to keep researching.  Dean hasn’t contacted him yet with anything new, and truth be told, Sam’s not super intent on spending time with him right now.  Time to himself is limited as it is, and he doesn’t need Dean nagging him about geeking out.  At this point it’s involuntary for Dean to rib him about reading, learning, etc. – and Sam will play along.

            Well, most of the time.

            Sam’s done a lot of repression in his time on Earth, and some of those early memories from adolescence are buried deep – or at least Sam tries to keep him that way.  He stopped counting after ten the number of times Dean told him “go take your book and sit in the car – I’m busy” while Dean had gotten it on with some girl – or on the rare occasion, guy, - in the hotel room they were sharing.  For a long time Sam had ignored it, built up the image of Dean just being a sleaze but it had turned later into shame; Dean got to fuck the hot girl while all Sam had was his book and the backseat of the Impala.  What certainly didn’t help was the mocking way Dean would ask “enjoy your book, Sammy?” when Dean had finally deemed it okay for him to come back inside.

            Sam has to look away from the microfilm because everything’s gone blurry, his eyes wet with tears he wish he hadn’t let come out because this shit happened well over a decade ago and yet it still makes him feel a little less than second place to Dean.  Okay, fine, they’re adults now and Sam can escape it easier, but here he is – reading while Dean’s doing whatever.  No, not whatever – there had been a daughter, Sam remembers now, with sable hair and breasts that Sam’s willing to bet hadn’t received implants here in Maynardville.  She’s exactly Dean’s type and that combined with vulnerability from watching her parents be violently beheaded probably has Dean’s full sympathy.

            Sam suddenly doesn’t have to guess at Dean’s doing, because he knows.

            He wipes his eyes and furrows his brow, absolutely refusing to let it get to him.  He’s done a lot of good for the world, and he knows it – but it still bothers him that his brother has such easy charm and has people constantly falling into his lap at the snap of his fingers. 

            Swearing under his breath, Sam gets up from the chair he’s been glued to for the last three hours.  He looks around for the bathroom, pushing his hair behind his ears as he walks.  He wishes he’d brought a jacket, because it’s even colder here than where the microfilm readers are.  He buttons the top button of his plaid and pulls the sleeves down a little further, rubbing his hands to get the circulation moving a bit quicker.  Any other time he’d be fine, his legs wouldn’t be asleep, and he wouldn’t feel so damned tired – but that’s what sacrifice is all about.  The conditions only apply to him, and everyone else reaps the benefit of not being killed.

            His mind’s still a whirl of emotions as he washed his hands with extra hot water and splashes his face to wake himself up.  He doesn’t dare to look too hard in the mirror, because he knows what’s going to be looking back at him.  He doesn’t need to reaffirm the fact he’s starting to look a bit cadaverous, pale and waxy skinned. 

            Sam walks out of the bathroom and feels satisfied when the door swings loudly shut behind him. 

            His backpack is undisturbed and the microfilm hasn’t been touched as he settles back down into his chair.  Pushing back painful memories, he’s decided he’s had enough for one day.  He certainly isn’t going to call Dean to come pick him up and besides, the sunshine is probably going to do him a hell of a lot more good if he walks back to the hotel.  Or to lunch.  Wherever, really, seeing as how there aren’t a lot of places to go.

            Right as he’s about to zip up and stand, warmth like a waterfall cascades over his shoulders and neck.  He doesn’t move, the already dry air becoming even drier and the smell of old paper being swept away for a long moment as hands materialize in the middle of his chest and move up to his shoulders, pure ozone filling Sam’s nostrils and permeating his senses.

            The lips against the back of his head murmur “I’ve been looking for you” in a honey-gravel voice that’s more than enough to chase away bad memories.  The hands squeeze gently, rubbing handfuls of plaid covered deltoids as Sam stands up and turns.

            Castiel stands before him with a smile that reaches all the way to his eyes, just a hint of white teeth showing behind his lips.  He still has his hands on Sam’s shoulders, though they move towards his biceps as Sam closes the gap between them and bends to rest his forehead against Castiel’s.

            “I wasn’t exactly trying to hide.”  Sam’s mindful to be quiet, should there be anyone on their way up the stairs.

            “Then why did you have your cell phone off?”  It’s not an accusation, simply that Cas is learning the art of using a phone over just appearing and scaring the living daylights out of people.

            “I didn’t think it was…”  Sam’s voice trails off as he fishes it out of his pocket and checks it.  He presses the power button, only to see the dead battery icon flash once before the screen goes dark again. 

            “Ah – dead.”  Sam shows it to Cas and puts it back in his pocket, then places his hands on Cas’s sides.  “But why were you looking for me?”

            “Because I missed you, and wish to spend time with you before Naomi calls me again.”  There’s no hiding the disgust with which he says the other angel’s name, and it makes Sam chuckle a bit.

            “Is it actually important, whatever it is she’s telling you?”  Sam picks up his backpack and slings it over his shoulders, his eyes never leaving Cas’s face.

            “No – and if it was something worth relaying, I would.  I think she’s simply petty and enjoys keeping us apart.”  Cas frowns, and the way it makes his face bend doesn’t make Sam feel any better.  “I think I’m going to turn off angel radio for a while – I have no desire to return to heaven right now.”  The finality with which Cas says it makes Sam feel that much better.

            Sam cups Castiel’s face, his long fingers reaching all the way up past Cas’s temples.  “So does that mean I can do this for a while?”  Sam leans in, his lips just brushing Cas’s.  Cas wraps his arms around Sam’s waist, affirming that yes, indeed Sam can do that and the kiss nearly pushes past chaste, Sam breaking it before they get in trouble.

            “Perhaps we should go elsewhere, Sam.” _Elsewhere_ has such a strong undertone of lust to it that it sounds even dirtier than if he’d said “let’s go fuck each other’s brains out.”

            Sam smiles in agreement and walks out of the library holding Cas’s hand.

            It’s gotten hotter since that morning and despite being almost always cold these days, Sam starts to sweat as soon as he’s outside.  He extracts his hand long enough from Cas’s embrace to shuck himself of backpack and plaid, leaving him in just a black tank top.  Cas unabashedly ogles Sam, especially when Sam shakes his head to loosen up his hair.  Cas holds his shirt and backpack while Sam ties it back and frees his neck and ears from sweaty misery.

            Sam notices Castiel’s scrutiny, grinning as he takes his things from Cas’s hands.  “I don’t really feel like I’m worth staring at quite like that, Cas.”

            Cas shakes his head in disagreement.  “On the contrary Sam – you look… delicious.”

            Sam’s outburst of mirth, bright as the noonday sun, makes a couple of passersby look in their direction, quizzical expressions at Cas’s long trench coat and suit in the middle of summer making Sam feel conspicuous.

            “I was simply stating a fact, Sam.” Frustration clouds those pretty blue eyes and Sam kisses his temple, free of sweat because Cas is an angel and no more reacts to the weather than he does the passage of time.

            “No, no babe it’s… it’s just that I’m not used to it being stated so – bluntly?”

            “I see no reason to not be plainspoken.”  Cas returns his hand to Sam’s and they resume their journey.

            “And I appreciate you being plainspoken – but have you really looked at me lately?  Cas, I look – and feel – like hell.”

            “Your physical appearance is as attractive as it ever was.  Why do you not think so?”

            “I’ve not exactly been hitting the gym or grabbing that extra mile in the mornings, Cas.”  Sam shrugs with one shoulder, knowing full well of what he speaks.  Two miles the day before last had left him wheezing and pulling for air, his body simply defeated.  He hasn’t entertained – not yet, anyway – the thought that he might be even closer to death then he has been in the past.  He doesn’t exactly see completing The Trials as a ticket to a lifetime of health and normalcy.

            Cas’s look turns sympathetic and he kisses Sam’s bare shoulder.  “I hardly see that as reason to not be very, very attracted to you.” 

            “It still doesn’t make me feel like Mr. Centerfold.” 

            Cas’s brow furrows in confusion.  “Mr. Centerfold.”

            Sam smiles a bit as he explains.  “In a nudie mag, the centerfold is the person that the issue normally revolves around, and the pages would fold out  so that their picture is bigger than anyone else’s in the magazine.  Uh, Dean kept some for a while and…”  Sam doesn’t need to exactly delve into his first experiences with pornography with Cas.

            “And people find this erotically stimulating?”

            “That’s the whole point of porn, yeah.” 

            “I didn’t enjoy the pizza man and the babysitter,” Cas says, remembering his one – and only experience – with smut.

            Sam doesn’t really know how to reply – porn’s not really something he’s ever discussed with Cas.  “People have different tastes, and that’s perfectly okay.”

            Cas nods, understanding, or at least pretending to.  For a while he’s silent as they walk, hand in hand.  Sweat rolls down Sam’s back and makes the palm of his hand stick to Cas’s, gluing them together.  Sam keeps glancing at his face, and every time Cas looks deep in though.  His lips are parted where he’s breathing, calm, steady, barely conscious of Sam’s presence, it seems.

            That Cas is thinking about pornography makes Sam’s cheeks flush with amusement – and arousal. 

            They’re a block from the hotel when Cas finally speaks again.

            “What kind of pornography do you like, Sam?”

            The question had been half expected but it still throws Sam off and he has to stop.  “I don’t uh, don’t really feel like this is an appropriate conversation to have right now.”

            “Does the subject make you uncomfortable?”

            Sam shakes his head vigorously, trying to dispel doubt. “No, it doesn’t – I just prefer it be talked about in private.”

            “I don’t see anyone else around.”  Cas gestures with his free hand, facing Sam.

            “It’s not that.  I’d just prefer it be done when we have uh, time I guess?”

            “You’re working, then.”

            “Yeah.  I was at the library doing research, actually.”  Sam gestures to his backpack.

            “Of course.  Is there anything I can do to help.”  Cas’s intent to be a hunter yet is endearing and Sam would more than happily welcome a third set of hands – but he also doesn’t have to live with Dean and his ego.

            “I’m afraid not.  I’m not so incapable yet that Dean and I can’t handle a simple salt and burn.  Besides – I’m sure that after we wrap this up I’ll have some time.”

            Sam gives Cas a peck on the lips and starts for the door to the hotel room.

            He’s hesitant, just in case Dean’s inside and still pumping their witness for information and he calls out before he even has the door halfway open.  The last image he wants to see is his brother’s naked backside and some chick’s legs thrown apart. 

            “Dean?”

            “Where the hell have you been?”  Dean finished opening the door, fully clothed, no girl in sight. 

            “Library, you jerk.”  Sam rubs his hand where the knob had been snatched from between his fingers.  “You knew that.”

            “I called you.”  Dean moves aside to let he and Cas in.

            “Hello, Dean.”

            Dean doesn’t even acknowledge Cas, just keeps grilling Sam.  “And you didn’t answer – why?”

            The look of worry on Dean’s face undercuts the impatience Sam feels himself trying to withhold.  “My phone died and I didn’t realize it.” 

            Dean’s worrying – which he was already good at doing beforehand – has only increased since The Trials started and Sam feels like if he’s not checking in every five minutes when they’re apart Dean may actually go crazy.  He just gets irritated that Dean’s caringness manifests itself as making Sam feel like he’s done something wrong.

            “Well… next time make sure it works.”  Dean turns away, signaling the conversation as being over.

            “I have what we need,” Sam says.  He gets his notepad out of his backpack, smiling at Cas while Dean has his back turned.  It’s part apology for Dean being brusque, part Sam just wanting to let him know he’s still paying attention to him.

            Dean takes the pad from Sam’s fingers and reads it over, then hands it back to Sam a couple minutes later.  “Lines up with everything Cora said.”

            “Cora?”

            “Yeah, Cora.  And the sooner, the better.  Chop chop, Sambo, we’re going ghost hunting.”  Dean’s already packing a bag and Sam follows suit, peeling out of his tank top and trading it for a t-shirt.  He makes sure he strips off in front of Cas, letting him see all he wants.  Sam’s abs haven’t quite disappeared yet, and Cas gets a nice, long look before Sam covers himself again.

            Dean’s already headed to the car as Sam stops to pull Cas into a one armed embrace.  “When we get back, we’ll talk things over, yeah?”

            Cas nods.  “Please return in one piece, Sam.”  Cas kisses Sam just long enough to let him know he wants more – a lot more – later.

            “I’ll do my best, angel.”  Sam squeezes his hand and is out the door, his ponytail bouncing with each step as Cas watches him retreat.

___

            The thing about ghosts is that they are technically dead, and therefore do not give one flying shit about their own personal wellbeing. 

            As a result, Sam gets chased around the old tobacco farm on which Victoria and Johnathan Grant’s bodies rest.  He gets chased enough to where he never wants to be pursued again.

            Why the hell Sam ends up running point is beyond him – right now, Dean’s the better runner.  Sam can feel every single fiber of his being straining, dodging, his chest on fire as he swings the iron pick while Dean sets the bodies on fire.  The digging had gone well enough, right up until halfway from uncovering Johnathan’s body Victoria had literally come screeching out of nowhere and nearly taken Sam’s head with her.

            Fuck ghosts.

            Sam can understand why they’re so angry – brother and sister, but also lovers.  Instead of having the secret exposed that the girl was pregnant with her brother’s child, they decided to off themselves before news got out.  Sam honestly couldn’t have cared less about their past – but if he had known that disturbing them would have made them this vengeful he’d have sooner left them alone.

            Another swing and Victoria bursts apart, only to recollect ten feet away and come at Sam again.  Sam ducks, swings, and runs, Johnathan coming at him from the other direction.

            “Dean!”

            Dean’s down in the grave, digging for all he’s worth.  “One more minute, Sammy!”

            He’d said that five minutes ago, and Sam was already scared shitless then.  Now it’s just getting annoying.

            Sam runs, willing his body to carry him.  Death breathing down one’s neck certainly lights the right kind of fire and Sam wishes Dean would get on with it already and serve up two ghosts, deep fried to non-existent perfection.

            At least Sam’s found out today that he’s still more than plenty agile to continue engaging in their chosen line of work.

            “Hit the deck, Sammy!”

            Sam drops to the ground and a burst of flame rolls over his head,  two otherworldly screeches being the last thing he hears of the Grants.  Dean’s swearing and running over to him, immediately crouching next to Sam and helping him get up.

            “You alright?”  Dean has Sam’s chin in his hands, checking to make sure he’s still in one piece.

            Sam coughs, his lungs finally calling for a cease and desist.  It takes him a long while before he stops, just short of retching.

            “I’m fine – can we go?” Sam pushes Dean back gently and gets himself up off of the ground.  He can feel the dirt stuck to his body and right now he wants nothing more than a very, very long shower.

            “Yeah, yeah,” Dean says, his heart not quite in it because he’s still watching Sam in case he keels over.  Sam strides forward as if nothing is amiss, ready to leave this old cotton mill and the Grants to rest forever in peace.

            They’re silent on the forty five minute ride back to Maynardville, save for Dean’s radio.  Sam spends the whole time trying to discretely catch his breath, focusing on not passing out.  Dean pretends not to notice and just focuses on the road, Sam occasionally wiping his forehead with his sleeve.

            “I call dibs on the shower,” Dean announces, his tone decidedly meant to get a rise out of Sam.  Sam just looks up at him, frowning because he’s the one covered in dirt and grim and didn’t get chased by a fucking ghost – no – _two_ ghosts.

            “Fine.”  Sam is in no mood to argue and brings up the rear as they make for the door to the motel room.

            Sam collides with Dean a short second later, his hand still on the door.

            “On second thought Sammy, you go first.”  Dean looks so mortified that for a moment Sam thinks someone’s broken into the room and ransacked it – only for a second later for Dean to beat it back to the car and Sam’s left in the doorway with an eyeful of –

            Castiel, laying on Sam’s bed with his trousers around his knees and his shoes kicked off jerking himself off.  Sam’s laptop is propped on a pillow on this thighs, and Cas is so clearly into himself that he’s so far not even noticed Sam.

            Sam has to clear his throat twice and fight to get his voice above his squeak.  “Cas, um…”

            Cas lazily looks at him, his mouth open and then once he realizes Sam is standing there he freezes; Sam has never seen shame on Cas’s face but right now it’s as clear as day and instead of trying to cover himself, Cas simply pretends nothing is amiss.

            “Hello, Sam.  Would you like to join me?”

            Sam’s still stuck fast to the carpet under his feet.  Besides, all of the blood in his body is rushing south because hello, naked (well partly) Cas and the smell of sex in the air.  Sam spots a moment later Cas’s wings, unfurled to either side of him and the heavy scent of wing oil wafts toward him.

            For the second time in two minutes, Sam has to fight to get words out.  “Yeah um… give me… uh”  Sam doesn’t take his eyes off of Cas as he goes to the bathroom and is barely undressed as he hops in the shower.  He washes the worst of the gunk off and rinses his hair, trying his hardest to be proficient and not trip over himself in his excitement.

            He ignores his cock – which has been hard since Cas had invited him to join in – and dries himself off, drying himself off enough so that he’s not dripping with water as he comes bursting out of the bathroom.  Cas is now naked, sitting on his haunches on the edge of the bed and stroking his cock.  The tips of his wings are curled in arousal, midnight black shimmering in the late afternoon sun so that each feather is actually closer to blue.

            The satisfaction and anticipation on Castiel’s face is enough to make Sam’s dick jump because he knows _exactly_ what kind of place Cas is in right now.

            Sam stops halfway, admiring Cas’s body.  He’s lean, just as he’s always been, but power ripples so plainly under the surface of his hairless, tanned skin that it wouldn’t make the least bit of difference to Sam if he had abs or not.  His vision is drawn down his body, right down to the dark thatch of his pubic hair.  It’s matted with wing oil where Cas has been lubing himself up with it, the base of his abdomen sporting a wet sheen. 

            “You’re welcome to touch me, Sam.”  Cas gives his cock a long, slow stroke, foreskin closing over the dusky pink head so as to make precome drip off the end in a long, heavy-beaded string.  Sam swallows, his mouth dry at the sight of Cas being so openly seductive.

            “Kind of want to look for a minute, babe.”  Sam’s had a hand on his dick since he stepped out of the bathroom, mimicking Cas’s movements.  He’s not started to leak quite yet but if Cas stays where he is that really shouldn’t be long off now.

            Cas uses his free hand to scoop up some of his precome on his fingers, fellating them and batting his eyes at Sam simultaneously.  Sam’s resolution to stay put for a moment longer dissolves and he closes the gap fast, nearly knocking Cas backwards as he puts his arms around him.

            There’s a second where they look at each other, silent understanding in their eyes of what they want for the moment and then Cas is kissing Sam, open mouthed and greedy.  Sam feels like he’s trying to swallow Cas whole, his eyes closing as he brings Cas a bit closer in.  His mouth is full of tongue, Cas pressing the kiss so hard that Sam’s jaw is more or less forced to stay open.  It’s the sort of kiss that doesn’t really come naturally, and Sam realizes Cas has picked up a thing or two from the porn he’s been watching. 

            Suddenly he’s not quite so miffed about Cas’s interest in it.

            Sam’s fingers slide up Cas’s back as he backs off a hair to suck on his tongue, fingertips right under the join of Cas’s wings to his back.  The skin there is swollen with arousal, his oil glands full and prominent.  Sam massages around them, making Cas shudder and moan into Sam’s mouth.

            Cas closes his thighs a little, being on his knees giving him a slight advantage in height over where Sam is standing.  He can feel Sam’s dick up against his balls and he reaches down, oil having dripped down his back and following the natural curve of his ass so that the space between his balls and hole is slick.  He rubs the head of Sam’s cock against his body, the slight upward curve of Sam’s penis making the movement far easier.

            Sam has to pull away for breath, his already taxed lungs starving for oxygen.  “Where’d you learn that trick?”

            “I’ve been busy, Sam.  I believe this is called thigh fucking.”

            Castiel’s somewhat clinical approach to lovemaking always brings an involuntary grin to Sam’s face.  “Not… not technically.  You have to actually have your legs closed and stuff.”

            “Why have we not done it before?”

            “Guess we prefer the real thing, babe.”  Sam kisses him again and leans him backwards, Cas’s legs coming out from under him so that Sam can lie in top of him.  Cas goes down without even a hint of a fight, welcoming Sam’s solid presence in such close proximity to him.

            Sam starts to rub himself against Cas’s cock, lined up bottom to bottom.  Being longer than Cas it doesn’t make for quite a perfect fit but Sam gets a hand around them anyway, foreskins sliding together as he rocks his hips.

            Cas puts a hand to his chest and breaks their kiss.  “Sam, stop.”

            “Something wrong Cas?”

            “No, not at all.  I would simply prefer we try something different.”  Cas indicates for him to sit up and as soon as he’s comfy, Cas takes Sam’s hands in his own.  Sam threads his fingers with Cas’s and then kisses each knuckle.

            “I’m listening, babe.”

            “I’ve been watching quite a lot of pornography and I know this sounds very… basic… but I would like to masturbate with you.”

            Sam’s eyebrows raise in curiosity.  “That’s it?”

            “Yes.  Is that alright?”

            “Yeah, of course.  Just that different carries the connotations of whips, bondage…”

            “I have no desire to tie you up, Sam.”

            Sam chuckles.  “Do _you_ want to be tied up?”

            “Not today, no.”  Cas raises himself up on his knees so that he can lean down to kiss Sam.  “Maybe some other time.”

            Sam grins into another long kiss and Cas does it again, holding his mouth wide open for Sam to tongue fuck his mouth.  Sam groans when Cas presses in close enough to rub their cocks together, slippery with precome and oil.

            Cas gets pushed back gently, Sam panting for breath.  “You got me close doing that.”

            “Should we wait a moment?”  Cas’s own cock is practically pulsing with each heartbeat and it take a great deal of effort for Sam to look away.

            “Yeah – I think we have a while and I kind of want this to last.”  Sam settles back against the pillows, patting the spot next to him for Cas to join.

            “I would like that as well.”  Cas makes himself comfortable, his right wing disappearing and then reappearing a moment later so that it’s wrapped around Sam’s shoulders.  Sam leans over and kisses the feathers nearest him, each one feeling as light as smoke and softer than even that.  Cas shivers and puts his hand on Sam’s thigh, squeezing the muscle and moving down and in up to within an inch of his balls.

            Sam’s dick jumps and a blurt of precome beads at the slit, running down the length of his shaft as Cas keeps rubbing the inside of his thigh.

            “Fuck, Cas, got me so worked up,” Sam whispers, stroking Cas’s feathers and reaching over to touch his chest.  Cas moans when Sam gently pinches his right nipple, his toes curling in response.

            “We should stop, Sam,” Cas warns, his cock fattening that much more as Sam’s fingers continue to dance over his chest.

            “You close too baby?”

            “Yes.”  Cas barely gets the word out, his chest heaving as Sam puts his palm flat and slides it across to his shoulder, then twice as slow back again.

            Sam nods, taking his hands off of Cas’s body.  “You been working that cock for hours, haven’t you?”  Sam’s got his lips right next to Cas’s ear, each syllable a hot puff on his skin.

            Cas nods, unable to speak.

            “Why don’t you show me what you’ve been watching?”  Sam kisses his cheek and leans back, stretching his arms above his head and cradling his showing off for Cas, long body and cock on display.  Cas turns his head and looks Sam over as he gets the laptop and puts it on his thighs, unable to resist planting a kiss on Sam’s belly.

            “I found some very um, interesting things.”  Cas clicks through the browser history, pages and pages appearing in the window that pops up.  Sam scritches the back of Cas’s head as he selects the ones he wants to show; at least he went through Pornhub and didn’t try to sign up for anything.

            “Yeah?”   Sam leans forward a bit to have a better view.

            “I find that men similar to you and I are what I like best.”  Cas pulls up one in particular, and Sam recognizes Jake Bass. 

            “You think you’re similar to Jake Bass?”

            “You say I have a bubble butt and get mouthy when you’re fucking me.  I found the comparisons to be… intriguing.”  Cas smirks and Sam kisses his ear, murmurs “tell me more.”

            Cas starts the video and soon Jake is on screen talking about foreskins and tops giving up their asses; Sam’s seen this video before, where Connor Maguire had utterly ruined the boy.

            “I…. I love that you’re bigger than me, Sam.  I like it when you hold me down and fuck me.”  Cas has started stroking himself, and Sam can’t keep his eyes off of him.  Cas has this beautiful way of pleasuring himself, each flick of his hand and wrist deliberately made so that it brings the maximum amount of pleasure each time.

            “Yeah, that’s it Castiel, keep going.”  Sam reaches down and tugs at Cas’s balls, attention divided between watching the screen and Cas.

            “I… God, _Sam_ , I think about _you_.  I thought about you earlier, when you were gone.”  Cas has his head leaned back against his shoulder, eyes closed and getting more and more lost in jacking off.

            “What about me?”

            “You’re a top, Sam, truly – and when I get to be inside you, it makes me feel… loved.  Because I know it’s not something you give up easily.”

            Sam uses his other hand to pinch Cas’s nipples, sending electric shocks across his skin.  Sam feels Grace flooding his body where Cas’s wing is draped over him, making him sweat from its intensity.

            “Yeah?  You like fucking my ass baby?”  Sam’s stroking himself now too, trying to time his movements with Castiel’s but not nearly as intense – he wants to see Cas come first.

            “I do – but I like being fucked more.  I love to be dominated by you Sam, fucked so hard that all I feel is my Grace and-“ Cas has to pause, swallowing hard and his stomach nearly caves in as he draws a breath – “and you.”

            “So fucking hot, Cas.”  Sam sucks on Cas’s earlobe, his senses overwhelmed by the electricity in the air and the smell of pure, clean ozone filling his nostrils where Cas’s presence is pushing the atmosphere away.

            Cas turns his head into Sam’s neck, his hips arching off the bed, making his hips cock slide through his fingers.  Sam’s never seen him so worked up; they never have the time, for one thing, to get themselves to this point.  Cas is beautiful right now, absolutely lost in himself and Sam can’t hardly wait to see what’s next.

            Sam puts his left arm around Cas, holding him close so that their bodies are laterally matched, the porn forgotten as Cas jerks off, precome coating his fingers so that it’s practically dripping over his knuckles.

            “I’m close, Sam, so fucking close for you.”  Cas grits his teeth, his skin flushed pink from his cheeks down to his navel.

            “Want to come in my mouth, Cas?”  Sam kisses along his jaw and moves down, licking across his right pectoral before coming back up to kiss Cas right on the mouth.

            Cas mouths “yes” against Sam’s lips, and given the way Cas has started jerking himself off even faster, Sam knows he’s close.

            Sam moves so that his head is lying on Cas’s stomach, mouth open and waiting.  Cas buries his free hand in Sam’s hair, gathering it back and pulling hard, not even conscious that he’s doing so.  Sam groans, reaching down to stroke himself, the pain turning into pleasure as it races across his body.

            “Sam, I’m-“  Cas’s whole body spasms as he comes, cock pointed right at Sam’s face.  Each burst is so forceful that Sam hears it landing against his face and mouth, half of it splashing back to spatter against Cas’s chest and neck.  Cas keeps a vice-like grip on Sam’s hair, crying out and shouting profanities in languages Sam’s never even heard. 

            It’s not until Sam feels the burn that he closes his eyes as come drips across his forehead and into his eyes – Cas absolutely plastered him.

            “Think you got me pretty good there baby.”  Sam sits up and takes Cas’s face in his hands, kissing the mess back to him.  Cas’s mouth is open and greedy for it, cupping Sam’s chin as he licks himself out of Sam’s mouth.  It’s salty, watery, running out of the corners of their mouths in spite of Cas’s efforts to contain as much as he can.

            Sam’s still achingly hard when Cas finally releases him and lays back down, his wings drooping heavy with satiation.  Sam climbs on top of him, kissing Cas again as he works his cock, spreading his legs as Cas slicks up two fingers with wing oil and rubs them over Sam’s hole.

            Cas looks up at him, groping his chest with both hands.  “Come on me Sam, please.”  Cas still has that desperate look on his face, and Sam sits back, feeling the tips of Cas’s fingers slip inside.

            “Yeah, Cas, fuck me with your fingers baby,” Sam pleads, his left hand tugging his balls and his right stripping his cock hard and fast, opposite of what Cas had been doing moments earlier.  Cas slides his fingers in deeper and the moment they touch Sam’s prostate, Sam cries out, his body tensing, every muscle in his torso etched in sharp relief to the rest of his skin.  Cas touches freely with his hand, running his fingers across his abs, over his chest, then down to Sam’s cock, rubbing his palm over the head.

            “Fuck, Cas, gonna fucking make me shoot.”  Sam’s breathing is heavy, his body dark with exertion, sweat dripping from every pore and off of his nose.

            “Come for me.”

            It’s all Sam needs.

            Heavy ropes of semen land in a near perfect row starting from Cas’s forehead and down to his chest, the Sam’s head bent forward and his mouth wide open.  He tries to scream, only to come up with another loud groan; his lungs are at their limit and by the time he’s finished coming he has to go down on hands and knees, holding himself above Cas’s body.

            “S…sorry” Sam whispers, dropping his head to kiss Cas’s shoulder.

            “Don’t be.”  Castiel swipes his fingers through the mess on his body and brings it to Sam’s mouth, letting him lick them clean before he does it again, bringing Sam’s head down with his other hand so that they can do it together.  Sam found out early on that Cas was a greedy come whore and Sam can’t recall a time they didn’t do this, tasting each other afterwards.

            “Think we’re both a little salty,” Sam says, bending to lick up from Cas’s navel back to his mouth.

            “I think you taste wonderful.”  Cas gives him that devious smirk again and wraps his arms around Sam’s body, pressing them chest to chest.  Sam can feel come sticking to his chest hair and he squirms a bit; they both need a shower again.

            “You’re goddamned filthy, you know that right?”

            “I enjoy your body, Sam – and that includes your come.”  Cas reaches down and gives Sam’s dick a tug; they’re both still half hard.

            “So much for us drawing it out.”  Sam kisses Cas’s neck, his stubble making Cas purr contentedly.

            “I think we’ll have more time for it.  I don’t plan on going back to heaven for quite some time.” 

            “Yeah?”

            “Yes.”  Cas makes Sam look at him, stroking the hair at Sam’s temples.  “Is that alright?”

            Sam has to kiss him again before he answers.

            “Of course.”

___

            There was a time when Sam would have been absolutely thrilled to have a period of inactivity; it meant he could actually take some time for himself and not have to worry about chasing goddamn monsters to all corners of the lower 48. 

            Nowadays he gets restless, even worse than Dean.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that his likelihood of seeing 33 is awfully small and the Trials may indeed be the finish of him.  Gotta squeeze in everything he can before he pulls his last breath, make another difference in the world – or so the voice in his head tells him.

            Still, there has been an upside to having some downtime; he and Castiel can barely keep their hands off of each other, and for that Sam couldn’t be more thrilled.

            Maybe it’s the bond that comes from watching filthy porn with your significant other (the term boyfriend doesn’t do justice, not even close) or maybe it’s just simply occupying the same space and breathing the same air for more than a couple hours at a time but Sam’s kind of fallen in love with Castiel all over again, and as a result Sam’s spent more time with his hands on Cas’s body than his own.

            There’s not been that much actual sex, either.  It’s almost better, in a way, because Sam gets to find out a lot more than he’s ever really known about Castiel’s inner workings when it comes to pleasure.  Sure they’ve had sex and fucked each other’s brains out but they’ve never really… talked about it.  It’s always been instinct and trying to get to the point as quickly as possible because of lack of time; it’s never occurred to Sam to just lie down and jerk off next to Cas in order to watch and learn.

            And learn Sam has.

            They’re in a bar in Louisiana, hanging around the Deep South because why the hell not go where it’s fucking hot and humid, especially since swamps have nasty things in them that someone is bound to disturb at some point.  Sam doesn’t quite understand Dean’s fascination with Louisiana (Benny Lafitte aside) but here they are, sweating as much as the other patrons and relaxing after a daylong hike through the bog, literally poking bushes and seeing if anything scary jumps out.

            Mosquito bites make Dean grouchy, and he’s currently going toe to toe with a gang of swamp boys in billiards, intent on not so much winning money as looking for a scrap; Sam’s keeping an eye on him from across the car, just in case he needs to intervene.  He’s almost counting on it, and keeping his drinking to a minimum.  Besides, alcohol doesn’t exactly do much for him nowadays, neither the buzz nor the taste.

            Still he keeps up appearances by nursing a mug of beer and watching for sunset via the number of firefly flashes he can see outside.  It’s not easy to count with Castiel seated next to him and looking for any excuse to be handsy.

            He’s actually dressed very, very casually – a black, thin t-shirt that’s his own courtesy of Goodwill and acid-washed jeans that they happened to find in Bobby’s house some time ago, before he died.  They’d fit Castiel perfectly and Sam had kept them around for him.  He looks good, really good in fact; the jeans hug his ass perfectly and the t-shirt shows off Cas’s trim frame very nicely; the only incongruous touch are Cas’s shoes, the same slip ons that he’s had ever since Jimmy Novak became his vessel. 

            But no one’s here to look at Cas’s shoes, anyway.

            Cas, for his part, has been steadily drinking – and is still stone-cold sober.  He’s had just about everything from behind the bar, not because he wants to get smashed, merely out of curiosity.  He wants to taste each spirit and beer on tap, and watching Cas savor and smack his lips after each taste is almost worth charging admittance to watch.

            Sam rests his chin on his hands, looking at Cas with a smolder of heat in his eyes.  “Have you found a favorite yet?”

            Cas downs a shot of thirty year old whiskey, the amber liquid leaking out of his mouth at one corner before that pretty pink tongue darts out to catch it.  “Yes – whatever it was I just had.”

            Sam laughs, then picks up his own drink for a sip.  “I thought you’d have a more organized system of cataloguing then ‘whatever I just had.’”

            “To tell the truth Sam, they all taste vaguely the same to me – but Black Bear Swamp Kicker, so far, has the most… personality, if you will.  The rest of this would make Michael himself seek other refreshment.”

            Sam has a momentary vision of a bunch of angels getting sauced on a cloudtop and chaos reigning down as a result.  “I won’t ask why you used that metaphor.”

            “It’s better if you don’t,” Cas states, then drinks some of Sam’s beer.  “There is something I wanted to speak to you about, however.”

            Sam scoots a little closer in.  “Shoot.”

            “You still have not answered my question from last week.”  Cas drops it as casually as he can before pulling more from his glass of whiskey.

            Sam blushes and smooths his hair back.  “Kind of got lost in all of the uh, craziness.”  Sam smiles, the aforementioned craziness a pleasant blur in his mind.

            “I apologize if my enthusiasm got out of hand, of course.”  Cas turns more towards Sam and under the table, puts his hand on Sam’s right knee.

            “Hey, no need to apologize.”  Sam puts his hand on top of Cas’s and indicates towards the outside patio.  “But why don’t we discuss this somewhere a little more private?”

            “I agree.”  Cas gets up first and finishes his whiskey, picking up a half full glass of vodka and walking outside.  Sam catches Dean’s eye for a moment, nods to affirm that Dean’s alright, and then follows Cas out.

            The mugginess is keeping most everyone inside so they have plenty of space to choose from and they grab a couple of chairs at the far end of the concrete slab, a solid fifteen feet from the door and out of earshot of the six or so other patrons scattered around.  Sam sits down and leans back, putting his booted feet up on the small table between them.  Cas eyes the long stretch of his legs and the sliver of belly where his shirt rode up, making Sam feel a warmth that has nothing to do with the beer in his hand.

            “I feel like I’m being interviewed,” Sam says, kind of low.

            “You may withhold whatever information you please, of course.”  Cas leans forward in his chair, eager to listen.

            “Of course.”  Sam winks and sets his beer down, hands folding across his chest.  “You know, no one’s really asked me this before so if I’m not clear, just… bear with me.”

            “You don’t have to worry, I promise.”

            Sam smiles, then looks skyward.  “You know, it’s always been a sort of ‘in the moment’ thing.  For a long time – especially when I was younger and didn’t have a computer or whatever – all I had was imagination.  I thought about girls, guys, whatever.  Normal teenager stuff, I guess.  My dick was hard if the breeze blew in the right direction.  It wasn’t really until I got to college that I had this kind of ‘oh this is what I really like’ sort of realization.”

            Cas is hanging on to his every word and stares as Sam takes a sip of his beer, gaze locked on Sam’s throat as it bobs when he swallows.  Sam notices, taking a longer pull just to disconcert Cas that much more.

            “I enjoyed that,” Cas says after Sam’s lowered the glass.

            “Beer’s good too.”  Sam resumes his relaxed position and continues.

            “Anyway – I guess it kind of happened by accident.  I was so caught up in classes those first couple months or whatever it didn’t occur to me ‘oh, I can jerk off to whatever I want to now.’  Guess it didn’t really dawn on me ‘oh, Sam, you’re really horny.’  So I just sort of started looking.”

            Castiel licks his lips, almost entranced by listening.  “You do know this is arousing me, right?”

            “I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet, Cas.”

            “I know.  I find your voice… stimulating.”

            Sam leans over, taking his boots off the table and grabbing a hold of Cas’s shoulder to bring himself closer.  Castiel shivers as Sam’s breath ghosts over his ear and neck, murmuring “just wait til you hear what I want to do to you.”

            Castiel melts a little, and moans loud enough that it attracts a couple other patron’s attention.  Sam gives them a stern look and they go back to their drinks.

            “I watched everything – straight, bi, gay porn.  Most of it turned me on some way or another.  My favorite though?  I love twinks, Cas.  Fucking love to watch them do everything – jerk off, give blowjobs, fuck each other – didn’t matter, it got me so fucking hard.”  Sam has one hand on Cas’s thigh, leaning into his space as he slides it up towards his crotch.  “There was this one video Cas – fuck, I’m hard just _thinking_ about it – it was these two boys, couldn’t have been more than nineteen – they edged each other. God, must have been for an hour, but they got each other so fucking worked up and when they shot they _coated_ each other.  I jerked off a hundred times to that at least, Cas.”

            Cas is breathing hard, Sam’s hand where it’s massaging his thigh making it extremely difficult to form words with much coherence.  “Did you imitate them?”

            “I tried, Cas – just didn’t have anyone to do it with.  By the time I met Jess I had kind of stopped watching that sort of thing – but the memory stuck.  You want to know the best part Cas?”

            Cas nods, leaning his head so that Sam can kiss his neck.

            “Best fucking part is that one of them looked exactly like you.  Sexy, blue eyed, and shot a big fucking load.  Shit, the first time I saw you come… it reminded me of that video, and it has ever since.”  Sam gently nips Castiel’s neck and that’s it, Castiel can’t hold himself back any longer.  He kisses Sam on the mouth, lips open and breath booze-sweet.  Cas tastes like twenty different liquors, supercharged by Grace so that he burns the inside of Sam’s mouth a little.  Sam holds back from kissing him too long, just in case someone decides to take issue with two men kissing in public.

            Cas pulls away, the air behind his back hazy where his wings are hovering just beyond visibility.  “Sam – may we leave?”  The unspoken _I want to see you naked_ makes Cas’s eyes go wide.

            “Yeah – let me check on Dean.”  Sam has to adjust his erection before he stands, reaching as discretely as he can into his jeans and pointing himself downwards; Cas bites hit bottom lip and follows, eying each other instead of actually watching where they’re going.

            Sam really need not have worried about Dean – he’s abandoned his pool game and is currently chatting up a pair of twins, blonde and buxom and probably not nearly as wholesome as they appear. Kudos to Dean for having the moxy but Sam knows they’re laughing at him solely to indulge him.  Dean winks at Sam and grins anyway, and Sam points to Cas and himself, indicating they’re leaving.

            “Would you like to walk or shall I have us back faster?”  Cas asks once they’re outside, his hand in Sam’s back left pocket and doing his best to casually grope his ass.

            Sam lets him be handsy and leans over to kiss Cas’s temple.  “Little urgent to get there?”

            “My erection is making it difficult to walk, and flying would get us there faster.”  Hearing Cas say the word “erection” is enough to sway Sam’s decision.

            “Take us away, babe.”  Sam puts his arms around Cas and they’re gone quick as a flash, touching down inside their motel room half a second later.  Sam takes a second to regain his balance before Cas is on him, pulling his head down and whimpering just a little when he tastes Sam’s tongue against his.

            “Kiss me dirty, Sam,” he pleads.  Sam knows exactly what that means, too – they’ve been kissing like porn stars for the last week and Sam finds himself enjoying each kiss more than the one proceeding.  He cups Cas’s jaw with one hand, applying just enough pressure to where Cas has to open his mouth.  Cas groans, sticking his tongue out so that Sam can lick across it.  Sam didn’t even realize what he was missing before they started doing this, literally holding each other open to lick into each other’s mouths.  It’s absolutely filthy and gets Sam harder than he really thought a kiss could.

            Hands go up under Sam’s shirt, blunt nails dragging across his hips.  Sam growls, getting a hold of Cas’s wrist with his other hand and gathering them behind his back.  In response Cas rubs against Sam’s leg, wanting friction any way he can get it.

            Sam breaks the kiss, keeping his mouth right against Castiel’s. “What do you want, Castiel – tell me.”  Sam kicks Cas’s legs a little further apart with his thigh and nips his jaw.

            “I want you to edge me.”  Cas already sounds fucked out, aroused beyond sense.

            “And?”

            “I want you to keep your jeans on, Sam.  You’re so beautiful in just jeans and bare feet.”  There isn’t even the barest hint of insincerity in Castiel’s voice; it’s as true as anything.

            “Yeah?  Want to take my shirt off baby?”  Sam purrs the words really sweet into Cas’s ear, letting go of his wrists so that Cas can put his hands back on him.

            “Yes.”  Cas gets his fingers hooked in the gray fabric at Sam’s waist and pulls up, all the way off of Sam’s arms.  He tosses it aside and immediately has his hands on Sam’s chest, rubbing with his palms and fingers.  Sam puts his hands under the back of Cas’s shirt, rubbing his shoulder blades and seeking out those slight dips where Cas’s wings connect to his body.

            Cas shivers when Sam’s find them and buries his face in his neck.

            “That feel good Cas?”

            “Y…yes.”  Getting Cas to the point of stammering is such sweet music that Sam just _has_ to indulge himself more.  He digs his fingers in deep, Castiel all muscle and toughness, feeling him loosen up the longer he rubs.  Soon Sam’s fingers are coated in wing oil and Cas’s wings are flashing in and out of visible existence.

            “Take your clothes off,” Sam gently commands, pushing Cas back to sit on one of the queen sized beds.  Cas complies, taking his shirt off while Sam works on his shoes and socks.  Sam takes his time in sliding them off, caressing each foot and rubbing Cas’s instep with his thumbs.  Cas groans, palming at himself through his jeans.

            “Keep going baby, you’re not naked yet.”  Sam leans up and kisses Cas’s sternum before he settles back down, helping Cas shuck off his jeans and underwear as they’re pushed down his legs.  Cas shuffles himself back up on the bed and lays back, Sam still on his knees. 

            Sam looks up at Cas, hazel eyes tinged dark green as he kisses the insides of Castiel’s calves.  “Look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispers, pushing on Cas’s foot so that he has to bend his knee.  “Can I do something and you promise you won’t kick me in the face?”

            Cas swallows before speaking, leaning up a bit to see Sam better.  “Of course.”

            Sam smiles.  “Just making sure – this might tickle a little bit.”  Taking a breath – because this is _certainly_ something he’s not done before – he licks the sole of Castiel’s left foot.  Both of them hesitate just a moment, Sam to see what Cas’s reaction will be, Cas to make sure it doesn’t feel odd.  Sam’s tongue follows along the arch as soon as he figures that Cas isn’t going to kick him in the face; Cas, for his part, moans unbidden, the sensation making his toes curl next to Sam’s eyes. 

            Sam pauses, his mouth still against Cas’s foot.  “Good?”

            “Yes.”  Castiel’s touching himself, thumbing at the head of his cock and fighting to not arch up into his own hand.

            “Mmm,” Sam hums, then licks across the ball of Cas’s foot.  Cas, since he doesn’t really sweat, tastes clean even here, his toes curling and uncurling against Sam’s face.  Sam stops short of sucking on Cas’s toes, instead kissing each one before licking back down his sole and up to his ankle.  This wasn’t planned, not at all; Sam’s never had a thing for feet before but in the moment, well… he’s not sorry that he’s worshiping Cas’s feet a little.

            Sam repeats the same on the other foot, a little slower now that they are both a little more comfortable.  Castiel’s moans sound genuine, and Sam doesn’t stop until he’s panting for Sam to touch elsewhere.

            “Sam – I…”

            “Yeah baby?”  Sam kisses up the inside of Cas’s leg, around his cock and then up his body until he’s face to face with Cas again.

            Cas touches Sam’s face, caressing his cheeks.  “Thank you.”  Cas doesn’t try to kiss him, just runs his fingers through Sam’s soft hair and over his neck, never dipping lower than his shoulders.

            Sam smiles, hands braced on either side of Cas’s head.  “Don’t have to thank me Cas – I love every part of you.”  He kisses Castiel’s nose and ducks his head, looking down at Cas’s body.  Cas’s dick is pressed against his thigh, swollen and leaking, stuck up defiantly from the dark tinge of Cas’s shortish pubic hair.

            “Forgot to take my shoes off,” Sam winks and kisses Cas again, rolling off of him so he can reach down and unlace his boots.  Cas leans over and kisses Sam’s arm, his wing wrapped around Sam’s shoulders and body.

            “May I feel you, Sam?”  Cas’s lips are hot and dry against Sam’s ear as he asks.

            Sam tosses his socks across the floor and lays down, stretching his body out.  “Go right ahead babe.”

            Cas leans down and kisses Sam’s stomach as he unbuckles Sam’s belt, Sam’s cock making a rising tent where it’s tucked to the left. Cas licks his lips with anticipation, trying not to rush.  Sam rubs the back of his head as he feels his jeans loosen when the zipper and button are undone, then Cas’s warm hand plunging past the waistband of his Hanes to grip him.

            “You feel thicker than normal today.”  Cas lays on his side and kisses Sam’s neck, his naked body hot against Sam’s torso.  Sam hums pleasantly, his cock still in his underwear with Cas’s hand.

            “Been a while since I’ve been this turned on.”  Sam gasps when Cas gives his frenulum a long, slow rub with his thumb.  “Thought I was gonna edge you.”

            Cas grins, entirely too pleased with himself.  “I merely wish something to think about while you do.”

            Sam gets a hold of Cas’s wrist and then he’s on top of Cas again, his wrists penned, slowly rutting Cas’s naked body.  “My job is to make you forget how to think, yeah?”

            Cas nods, too caught up in Sam’s jeans against his sensitive skin.

            Sam kisses him, short but filthy, Cas’s mouth open before Sam even reaches it. He sits back just as quick, settled between Castiel’s spread legs. Sam bites his lip, hands on Cas’s thighs.

            “You look so fucking sexy when you’re spread out like this.”  Sam rubs circles with his thumbs into the sharp points of Cas’s hip bones.

            Cas picks his hips up a little and wiggles them invitingly, the same dark-colored hair on his crotch spangling his perineum and inner thighs; it all serves to make Sam a little more riled.  “I appreciate your admiration, Sam, but I believe you had different intentions.”

            “Pushy,” Sam smirks.  He pulls Cas down the bed a little more by his thighs, until there’s barely a couple inches between Castiel’s body and his own.  Cas puts his arms above his head, it being tacitly understood that Sam’s the one who will be doing the touching.

            Sam keeps eye contact as he leans down to Cas’s chest, dragging his stubbly jaw across his breastbone.  Cas exhales, long and slow, as Sam drops kisses like raindrops across his skin.  Each one lingers a bit longer than the one before it, meant to break Cas out in goosebumps.

            “Don’t stop, please.”

            Sam honestly hadn’t been planning on it.

            He can’t help but kiss Castiel again, enjoying the way the angel goes pliant as soon as Sam’s mouth is on his.  Sam’s always enjoyed kissing Castiel, the clean burn in his mouth during and after, the sweetness mixed with steel when he gets really into it.  Right now though Cas is all submission and hunger, trying to get Sam to stay as long as he can. Sam doesn’t let him in all the way, not when he’s _deliberately_ trying to keep Cas on the knife-edge of arousal and satiation.

            “Doing so good baby.”  Sam’s tone is all gentle praise, licking the shell of Cas’s ear between words.  Cas groans, his fingers curling against invisible handholds as Sam’s body moves against his.

            Sam ducks back to Castiel’s chest, sliding his hands up Cas’s sides.  He feels each rib on the way up, sucking a mark into Cas’s left pectoral at the same time.  Marks on Cas’s skin never last that long – he’s self-healing and that includes mars and blemishes from sex – but it certainly doesn’t stop Sam from leaving it on him all the same.  It’s a beautiful purple, nearly congruous with Sam’s lips.  Sam licks the spot as he teases Cas’s nipples with his fingers, a shaky “oh, God” letting Sam know exactly what sort of place Cas is in.

            It’s so beautiful to hear him blaspheme that it always leaves Sam wanting more.

            “That’s a sin, you know.”  Sam moves his head and sucks on the left one, destroying Cas’s reply before it even makes it to his lips.  He can feel Cas’s cock throb against his belly, untouched but definitely not forgotten.

            Cas swallows, Sam’s tongue making him see starts behind his eyelids.  “At this point in time I honestly could not care less.”  Cas is surprised by the absence of Sam’s mouth on his body for a moment, only to become disoriented again when Sam does the same to his right.

            Sam alternates back and forth until both of Cas’s nipples are hardened to little peaks, areolas dark with blood.  He flicks the tip of his tongue against both before he departs with a kiss to the mole next to his right one.  Cas is starting to writhe, his back arched towards Sam as each wave of sensation finishes cresting inside his body.  The air is filtered clean by Cas’s Grace, his wings hazy mirages to either side of the bed.

            “I have an idea of why Lucifer always wanted you, Sam – you’re a master of torture when you want to be.”  Cas’s eyes are dark and wide under half-hooded lids, his mouth a cotton-candy pink bow where he’s panting.

            Sam takes the compliment, leaning up to taste the sweet of Cas’s mouth.  “Thing is Cas, I don’t really want to hurt you – just make you come really, really hard.”

            Before Cas can really kiss him back Sam’s gone again, spitting into his palm.  He looks right at Cas as he slicks up his cock with it, palm coming up over the head and slowly rubbing, mixing with Cas’s precome, then back down again.  Cas’s eyes roll back in his head, throat bared to Sam. 

            “Do that again,” Cas pleads.

            Sam does, even slower this time, pressing the fingers of his other hand to Cas’s perineum.  Cas squirms, trying to rub against them.

            “Easy does it Cas, I’ve got you.”  Sam dips an inch lower and touches Cas’s hole, staying just long enough to get him interested.

            “Tease,” Cas mutters.  Sam kisses his chest and rubs two fingers in a swirl over Cas’s hole, than back up underneath his balls, slowly jerking Cas off while he does.

            “Someone’s got to be,” Sam says with far too much cheeriness.  He lets saliva drip out of his mouth and onto Cas’s cock, wetting where he’d rubbed it dry.  “And you said I was thick today? There’s a lot more of you than normal in my hand right now.”  Sam squeezes Cas’s shaft, pumping slowly and watching precome leak from the slit.

            Cas has to struggle for an answer, wet cock sliding noisy through Sam’s fingers.  “I… fuck, _Sam_ , I blame you - I told you I was aroused.”

            “Sounds like I need to take care of that.”  Sam slides back on his haunches, keeping his hand where it is as he puts the head of Cas’s cock in his mouth.  Cas falls silent, inhaling continually, as Sam swirls his tongue around and around, jerking him with maddening slowness.  Sam draws his foreskin up, sticking his tongue inside and listening to Cas babble in Latin.

            It’s always a good sign when Cas starts speaking in different tongues during sex – it means that whatever Sam is doing is working _extremely_ well.

            Sam tries to keep a pattern of variation, alternating between jerking Cas off, tugging and sucking on his nipples, licking, kissing, teasing – but never going quite all the way, wanting to build Castiel’s anticipation to the point of no return.  Sam’s own cock is starting to hurt where it’s tucked in his jeans and he can feel the precome sticking the fabric to him; he’s been leaking since Cas first kissed him.  Still, Sam’s the one in control for the moment and letting himself out would ruin the image, anyway.  Cas said jeans and bare feet, and jeans and bare feet he’ll get.

            Cas’s wings are fully manifested now, rippling in time with however strong the feeling is that Sam makes happen in his body; the end feathers are curled in, shimmering with energy.  Sam can almost see the little arcs of lightning as they jump from feather to feather, a fresh wind behind the rain mixing scent mixing with that of Cas’s wing oil.

            “Cas?”  Sam stops for a second, returning his hands to Cas’s thighs and watching his dick throb.  Every vein on it is sticking out in full, so much so that Sam is tempted to trace each and every one with his tongue.

            Cas has to work to catch his breath and as testament to how well Sam’s been doing, wipe the sweat from his eyes.  He reaches for Sam’s hands and grips them for a drawn out second while he finds his voice, and Sam pulls him upright.

            “I’m listening.”  Cas’s eyes are shut, leaning against Sam’s shoulder while his heart races.

            “Can you get on your knees for me?”

            Cas rises, shaky and drawn so tightly he looks ready to explode all at the same time.  He looks down at Sam once he’s up, holding onto his shoulders for support.  “Yes.”

            Sam smiles, gives Cas a kiss, and then moves back around behind him so that they’re chest to back.  Cas’s wings are hot where they touch Sam’s skin, the wing oil coating his skin to the point of being slippery.

            There’s a floor to ceiling mirror that covers one side of the motel room, no doubt intended to give it the illusion of more space but most likely used more to watch during sex than anything else; Sam’s intentions are entirely of the latter nature.

            “Think you can hit that mirror baby?  Soak it in all that pretty come?”  Sam’s hot his arms wrapped around Cas’s body, one hand ready and slicked up with wing oil.

            Another nod, followed by Cas trying to press back further against Sam’s bulge.

            Sam grips Castiel’s dick, holding it without moving.  “Been doing so fucking good, Cas.”  Sam kisses his neck and licks the hinge of his jaw before biting his earlobe again, the pads of his fingers moving ever so slightly to make Cas moan.  “My pretty angel, love you so fucking much Castiel, can’t really even begin to say how much.”  Sam noses at Cas’s cheek, Cas turning his head to kiss him.

            He waits until Cas’s tongue is in his mouth again before he starts to jack Cas off, his left arm crooked across Cas’s body so that he’s held close, sweat and wing oil fusing them together.  Cas tries to fuck into Sam’s fist, get himself there a little faster but Sam shushes him, gently biting his shoulder to still him.

            “Love doing this Cas, love making you feel good, making you so fucking hard I can feel you throb in my hand.”  Sam opens his eyes and watches them in the mirror, Cas’s body flushed pink from his cheeks down, wings spread wide; Sam’s peeking out from behind his shoulder, hazel-green eyes a dusky contrast to Cas’s golden skin.

            “Look at yourself, baby.”  Cas opens his eyes, watching himself in the mirror.  “So fucking pretty – my pretty boy.  ‘S what you are Cas, my gorgeous boy angel.”  Sam rubs the nipple closest to his fingers, watching Cas’s chest swell as he inhales.

            “I’m close Sam don’t… don’t stop talking.”  Cas is a wreck on the verge of disintegration, and Sam plans to gently obliterate.

            “Love how sexy my boy looks, that big fat cock all swollen and wet, that body so ready for me.  Want to know why I love it Cas?”

            “Y..yes.”

            Sam whispers, so quietly that Cas barely hears him over the sound of his own breathing.

            “’Cause you’re my twink Cas.  My sexy, beautiful angel boy twink.”

            Cas nearly lifts off the bed, the first three shots of his orgasm going high and splattering loud against the top edge of the mirror.  Sam almost loses his concentration, enraptured by the distance Cas shoots.  The rest hits the mirror right in front of them, sticky white trails dripping down fast and streaks behind them.  Sam feels come dripping down his fingers and onto the bed, along with Castiel’s tears of pleasure against his shoulder where Cas has his head thrown back. 

            He’s so completely deconstructed by the time he collapses that Sam has to make sure he hasn’t lost consciousness.

            Cas is shaking hard as he sinks to his knees and doubles over as Sam wrings the last few drops out of him.

            “S…Sam.. pl – please stop.”  Castiel sobs, and Sam ceases immediately, turning Cas over to kiss him, hauling him into his lap and holding him so close that Sam’s chest hair is more covered with Cas’s sweat than his own.

            “That was fucking beautiful Cas, so, so good.”  Sam kisses each word into Cas’s face, tasting the salt of his tears on his lips.  Cas is nearly limp, shuddering as aftershocks keep rocking him.

            “You… you need to come too.”  Cas drops his hands to Sam’s waistband, making a nominal effort at tugging them off.

            “You wanna do it Cas?”  Sam kisses his cheek and starts to slide out from under Cas’s weight.

            Cas shakes his head no, holding Sam’s face.  “I want you to come on my wings, Sam.”

            Sam has to take a second to process the words that just came out of Cas’s mouth – they aren’t ones he’s heard often, certainly not since before Purgatory.

            “Lay on your stomach, babe.”

            Cas goes down easy, Sam blanketing his back for just a moment while he kisses him.  Cas hums, happy to be under the shelter of Sam’s body, if only for a moment while Sam shimmies his pants and underwear down past his knees.  He ruts against Cas’s ass, dick sliding between his cheeks.

            “Feels good, baby,” Sam slurs, already close.

            “Come for me Sam, all over me.”

            Sam spends another ten seconds rubbing off against Cas before he snaps up, already starting to come as he takes himself in hand.  Heavy spurts land solid on Cas’s skin, past his head and all over his shoulders, the bleachy smell even stronger when they hit Castiel’s wings.  Cas spreads them wide, looking back at Sam when he’s done and reaching for him again.  Sam collapses onto his side, burying his face in Cas’s shoulder.

            “So,” Sam says after a while, come and oil drying on their bodies, “how did that live up to the fantasy?”

            Cas snuggles up to Sam a little closer.  “I don’t think it could have been surpassed, honestly.” 

            Sam grins and sits up, propped on one elbow to look down at Cas.  “That good?”

            Cas indicates with his head towards the come still drying on the mirror.  “I think that speaks for itself.”

            Sam smiles, running his fingers through Castiel’s hair.  “We need to clean it up before too long.”

            Catching Sam’s hands, Cas pulls the hunter over on top of him.

            “Not quite yet.”

___

            Living the hunting life, it’s easy to lose track of time. 

            Hours and days blur together, consumed by research, hunting, traveling, then repeating the whole process over and over again.  That’s how Sam manages to lose two months on the road, July shifting to September.  By the time they land back in Kansas, the leaves are starting to show signs of changing from green to the dazzling shades of fall.

            Sam barely even notices as he walks through the door.

            It’s been raining – hard – ever since they crossed the state line and made for Lebanon.  It had awakened him from the deep slumber he’d been in since they departed West Virginia, high up in the mountains where they tracked down a werewolf.  In spite of the long rest – and Dean’s music – he’s still exhausted.  The second Trial had left him even more drained than the first, and that was three weeks ago.  Castiel had been there for a week after, afraid of leaving Sam, only he’d been beamed back up to heaven without a moment’s notice and Sam hadn’t seen him since.

            “C’mon Sammy, can’t bivouac right inside the door.”  Dean gently helps him down the stairs, knowing full well that Sam’s in rough shape.  Mostly he’s let Sam alone, allowing him to rest and take what time he needs for himself.  He’d promised to carry him, and so far he’d done exactly that.

            “I’m glad you know how to use that word properly.”  Sam tries hard to sound jovial but the gaunt look about his face kind of makes his smile seem a touch macabre.

            “I know how to use lots of words properly, Professor.”  Dean pokes him in the side once they’re down the stairs, his arm still around Sam’s middle.  Sam would protest against being manhandled on any other occasion but his legs seem to be on vacation.  Well, the parts of them that allow movement anyway.

            “Yeah, I’m sure.”  Sam coughs, mouth closed so that Dean doesn’t see the blood he’s been spitting up for three days.  He taste phlegm and copper, and swallowing it back down makes him feel even more queasy.

            “Library or bedroom, Sammy?”  Dean has them pointed to go either way, and Sam has to stop and think about it for a moment.

            “Bedroom.”

            It takes a few minutes, but Dean gets him there in one piece.  Sam lets Dean hover for a minute while he checks himself over, pretending to ignore the nervous pacing he’s doing.

            “If you don’t need any-“

            “Go to bed, Dean.  I know you’re beat, and I think I can manage from here.”

            Dean hesitates anyway, the concern fighting the bleariness in his eyes.  “Alright.”

            Odds are really good that Dean will sleep with his door open should Sam need him in the night.  Sam listens for his footsteps to retreat down the hallway before he gets up and shuffles over to his dresser.  He’s dead tired but itchy, road sweat and the last couple days still clinging to him a little too hard for him to go to bed quite yet.  He gathers up a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and the comfiest pair of boxer briefs that he owns before shucking his trainers off and heading for the shower room.

            It’s welcomingly dark and safe, each spigot sticking out of the tiled wall promising hot water that has no end and temporary relief from his troubles.  While he could shower in the bathroom connected to his bedroom, he’d much rather be here, where he doesn’t have to step over anything and the pressure is twice as good.

            There are racks in the wall and Sam makes for where his toiletries sit, unused for a while now but still good.  Just thinking about washing his hair properly is enough to make him strip quickly, barely out of his socks before he steps under the near scalding hot water.

            While he washes up he checks for bruises, finding none save for the ones he already knew about.  It’s not that he’s incapable, and the hunt had gone off without a hitch; he just feels like he’s aged a hundred years in the last six months, and there’s not much stopping it.

            He stands under the spray for a long time while he wets his hair, letting it roll down his back and shoulders until he’s almost numb. Make that damned good water pressure.

            Sam’s squirting shampoo into the palm of his hand when he hears a familiar flutter of wings, the sound amplified by the tile and concrete.

            “Sam?”  Castiel sounds like he’s behind him and Sam turns to face him, standing outside of the drain area.

            “Hey, Cas.”  The relief that blossoms at the site of Cas, whole and mostly healthy, it seems, almost makes his voice crack.

            “May I join you?”  Cas looks eager, itching to touch Sam.

            “Of course.”

            Cas magics off his clothes and steps across the floor, ignoring the slippery pool of soap at Sam’s feet and embracing him.  Sam shakes his soapy hair out of his face and hugs Cas back, face buried in his neck.  Cas smells like the night air and rain, his skin feeling cool for once.

            Sam rubs Cas’s naked back, all ten fingers covering as much of him as possible.  “Was starting to wonder if they’d taken you back for good.”

            Cas voice is quiet underneath the jet of the shower.  “I apologize for my absence – but Naomi has no respect for one’s personal time.”

            “She sounds like a real charmer.”

            “She’s a bitch.”

            The blatant sincerity and conviction in Castiel’s tone make Sam laugh, and it takes a moment but Cas is soon laughing with him.  Fingers touch Sam’s face, caress his jaw and cheeks, then slide up into his Aussie 2-in-1 lathered hair.

            “I know what you’re about to say,” Sam murmurs as Cas starts to massage his scalp.

            “I doubt that you have gained the ability to read minds since I last saw you, Sam.”

            “No, but I can see it on your face – I look like shit.”  Sam laughs drily at his own observation – which there is certainly plenty of truth in.

            “I wasn’t going to put it quite so… bluntly.  But yes, Sam, you do look unwell.”

            Sam shrugs.  “Not really something I can help, babe.”

            Cas exhales, his fingers covered in suds as he moves behind Sam and starts to wash the back of his head.  “It frustrates me that I cannot reverse the damage.”

            Sam ducks his head, wondering if sitting down would make this process easier for Cas.  “Kind of knew it’d suck going in.  God’s work and all that.”

            “This is hardly God’s work – it’s simply misfortune that things have come to this.”  Cas sounds sympathetic, drawing Sam’s hair aside to kiss the nape of his neck.  Sam bows his head a touch lower, letting the water rinse off his skin.

            “Misfortune, huh?  Seems about right.” Even Sam finds himself frowning at the melancholy in his own voice.  If he just wasn’t so fucking _tired…_

Cas stops washing his hair for a moment, wrapping his arms around him from behind and laying his cheek to Sam’s back.  “Is there anything I can do Sam?”

            Sam turns around, a sad smile barely crinkling the corners of his eyes.  “Honestly?”

            “Honestly.”  Cas slides his fingers back into Sam’s hair and helps him rinse.

            “Could you do something to help me breathe a little easier?”

            Cas nods.  “I can ensure that – and that you will wake up tomorrow feeling rested.”  The way Cas leans up to seal his promise with a kiss puts a warmth in Sam’s belly that he’s not felt in quite some time.

            Drying off takes a while – between Sam being sleepy and Cas doing his best to assist – and the corridor is pitch black as they fumble along back to Sam’s room.  Sam listens and hears Dean’s snoring from his room, and closes his door as gently as he can.  Cas is already back in Sam’s room, having traveled in nothing but the towel Sam used to dry off.  He’s under the covers, the comforter and quilt pooled around his waist.  Not even the remaining damp of the shower can quite tame Cas’s coif, and it’s sticking up in even more different directions than normal.

            The sight of Cas in his bed, looking so casual and, dare Sam think it, domestic, makes that warmth he felt earlier grow even more.

            “I feel a little overdressed,” Sam says. He tries not to hobble as he crosses the room to his bed and sits down to swing his legs in.

            “I advise remaining clothed – I noticed that your skin was cool.”  Cas lays on his side and props up on his elbow as Sam finds a comfortable position on his side, facing Cas.

            “I’ve been running a fever for a week now – kind of gotten used to it, you know?”  His eyes close when Cas reaches out to stroke his hair and tuck it behind his ear.

            “I know it’s in your nature to be sacrificing – and it’s an admirable quality – but why, Sam?”

            Sam inhales, long and slow, and then lets it back out, the ache settling deeper in his bones as he does.  Sam knows why.  There are veritable lifetimes of shit that he’s done that he’s never really going to stop atoning for.  Sure, the world’s forgiven him – Castiel certainly has – but it still never really goes away.  The guilt, the uneasiness, the nagging feeling of _not enough_  - it’s always there.

            Instead of answering, Sam lays on his back and looks up at Cas.  “How do you deal with it?”

            Cas gives a very human looking shrug.  “Faith that I can do better – and that I know I can.  I am not infallible, even if at times I certainly thought that way.  It does bother me, Sam, more than I can begin to explain.”

            Sam lays quite for a long while, his head hurting, his heart thudding slowly, too loudly and making his head hurt even more.  Cas snuggles up to his side, his arm laid protectively over Sam’s body and rubbing his chest in long, looping figure eights.

            The sound of his voice surprises even Sam.  “Faith?”

            Cas doesn’t break his motions, nodding against Sam’s arm.  “Faith in you. I’ve always had that, Sam.”

            “Not exactly a sure thing.  Betting on the guy who started the Apocalypse, got hooked on demon blood – not exactly the best horse in the race.”  Sam laughs, dry and self-deprecating.

            Cas sits up, looking down at Sam and rubbing his forehead.  “And you are so, so much more than that.”

            Sam doesn’t reply right away, instead staring up at the dim shadows his bedside lamp throws up.  “Am I going to survive this, Cas?”

            Castiel clings to Sam a little tighter, his face in the crook of his neck.  It’s not until he actually feels the dampness that he realizes Cas is weeping.

            “Cas?”  Sam turns over, making the angel – who suddenly seems very, very small – look up at him, those normally intense, sexy blue eyes full of tears and profound, deep sorrow.

            Cas forces himself to stop, still holding on tight to Sam.  “It’s a possibility that we need to think about.”

            Sam pulls the covers up so that they’re cocooned in them, Sam’s shirt riding up slightly as he shifts so that parts of his skin are pressed to Cas’s naked skin.  “I’m not afraid to die, Cas.  You know that.”

            “I will do everything in my power to keep that from happening, Sam, and you know it.”

            Sam nods, burying his nose in Cas’s thick, dark hair and inhaling deep.  He smells a little like Sam’s bed now, sleep sweat and shampoo.  “Faith, right?”

            “Absolute and complete.”  Sam doesn’t begrudge Cas when he reaches up and makes the sign of the cross on his forehead.

            Cas goes still for a few minutes, his head over Sam’s heart.  Sam reaches for Cas’s hand and threads their fingers together, squeezing gently.  It’s an attempt at solidarity, intended to comfort both himself and Castiel.  He truly isn’t afraid to die; maybe in death, he’ll have peace and the comfort that he finally did something right.

            Even then, he isn’t nearly ready enough to leave Cas behind.  Or Dean, for that matter.

            Sam leans his head down, his lips brushing Cas’s forehead.  He kisses him one, two, three times, one for each year – on earth anyway – that they’ve been together.  Those rough, desperate days before the End nearly came, and realization dawned that they needed each other, the time after Sam was re-souled, before the wall, the all too brief jubilation when things had been mostly okay – and now, after Lucifer and Purgatory and so, so much shit.  Cas doesn’t know what’s in Sam’s mind, but he tilts his head up to kiss Sam anyway.

            “I love you, Castiel,” Sam whispers.  Quietly.  Reverently.

            “I love you too, Sam.”

            Sam falls asleep with Cas’s lips against his and Grace a balm for his ills in his bones. 

___

            There are no windows in the bunker, save for a skylight above the main staircase and the top of the observatory.  Anyone else would feel claustrophobic without that sense of space and expanse, but Sam welcomes the privacy.

            The feeling of sunlight that shouldn’t be there when his conscious mind rouses him, for a moment, disorients him.  It feels like his whole body’s bathed in it, warming him from head to toe and making him sweat, just a little bit.

            Warmth caresses his lower body, wrapping around his cock like fingers and Sam moans, his eyes still closed to the outside world.  He can feel the blood rush, the swell of arousal waking him faster.  He pushes – subconsciously – against and into it.  The sunlight patterns his chest in dappling rays, dancing over his heart and then up and over his neck, streaking through his hair before finally it touches his lips.

            Sam’s eyes open to Castiel, both of them on their sides with Cas spooned against his back, mouth against his and his hands down Sam’s sweatpants and his hand under his shirt, rubbing and teasing his nipples.  Sam smiles, as wide as he can, as his mouth opens and Cas’s tongue touches his.  If he has morning breath, Cas makes absolutely no attempt to draw away from him.

            Cas is as naked as he was when they went to bed and Sam turns over on his back so that he can touch Cas, putting his palm against his chest.  Sam lingers for a moment, fingers splayed wide, before he slides down the center line of Cas’s body.  He scrapes his blunt nails gently over Cas’s belly, causing Cas to break the kiss and moan into his mouth.

            “Morning Cas,” Sam murmurs, fingers wrapping around Castiel’s cock and stroking just hard enough to make Cas gasp.  He’s hard, very hard, and the hand down Sam’s pants tightens its grip in turn.

            “Good morning, Sam.”  Cas bends his head and pushes Sam’s shirt up a little further.  He circles his tongue around Sam’s left nipple, raising goosebumps all over Sam’s body.  Sam arches into Cas’s hand, his sweatpants suddenly feeling far too constricting.

            Cas doesn’t exactly make the attempt to get undressed easy, between trying to suck on Sam’s chest like it’s his sole purpose in life and Sam not exactly being forceful in pushing him off; it feels good, _really_ good, and Sam suspects that the Grace Cas put in his body overnight might be reacting in such a way that it makes his whole being a giant erogenous zone.

            “C’mon Cas, wanna feel you,” Sam protests, his pants down past his ass but still caught on the tent of his cock.  “Don’t think it’s fair that you’re the only naked one here.”

            Cas relents with a sigh of resignation.  “Sit up,” he commands gently.

            Sam does, letting Cas take his shirt off his arms.  It’s tossed to the floor as Cas kicks the covers down the bed, moving so that he can finish pulling down Sam’s pants and underwear at the same time.  They end up nearly on top of the dresser, the few knick knacks Sam owns barely escaping being pulled to the floor.

            “Much better,” Sam says, reaching for Cas’s body.  He gets his hands halfway there before Cas captures his wrists and pushes him down on the bed.

            “I’m not really up for wrestling right now, babe.”  Sam wiggles his eyebrows suggestively anyway, only to be met with one of Cas’s seven degrees of serious faces.

            “I remember some time ago that you made me feel the most acute, intense physical pleasure that I have ever known.”  Cas keeps Sam’s wrists pinned as he moves, his lips as warm as a sunspot against Sam’s chest and neck.

            “I want to return that feeling Sam, as I sadly have not had the chance to do so yet.  Will you allow me that, Sam?”  Cas nuzzles the hinge of Sam’s jaw, their bodies lined up perfectly, hips moving in sync against one another.

            Sam can’t answer right away, Cas’s lips on his throat scrambling quite well the speaking parts of his brain.  Castiel always does this; he wants an answer to a question and then tries to persuade Sam into the affirmative he was going to give anyway.  Never really does fail.

            “Y…yes.”

            Cas kisses Sam again, long and deep.  Sam sucks on Cas’s tongue as well as he can, Cas’s fingers sliding up his arms to join with his.  Ten against ten, and Cas’s fingers, like always, are a little warmer than Sam’s.  Sam’s cock is leaking against the groove of Cas’s hip, slicking and sticking them together.  Cas moves against it, enough to where Sam can feel his foreskin contracting and retracting, sensitive skin rubbing against Cas’s body and making him shudder.

            “Do you want to know why I love this, Sam?  Being close and intimate with you?”  Cas kisses Sam’s jaw before going on.

            “It’s literally in our DNA.”  Cas nips gently at Sam’s chest, his tongue tracing around the outline of each of Sam’s pectorals, enough definition left to them to where he can make a complete circuit, one, two, three, four times before he comes back to Sam’s mouth.

            “Over the course of time Sam, we have become, in some ways, one being.  Even in Purgatory, when I was so far away… I could feel it.  That desire to be _with_ you.  It’s not simple desire, or even complex desire.  It’s a bond, Sam, a very, very strong one.”  Castiel whispers all this as though he’s talking dirty to Sam – in some ways, this is far, far more powerful than any filth Sam could come up with.  It makes Sam’s heart hurt, each word making him want to curl into Cas and stay until time stops.

            Cas comes back to Sam’s mouth again, letting his hands go.  “I knew it was wrong to keep this from you Sam but… I didn’t want you to see it as a burden, Sam.  It’s something I chose to give into, to have this connection.”

            Sam’s eyes are watering as Cas presses their foreheads together, his voice a soft whisper.  “And I wanted to tell you, Sam, before…”

            “Before I die.”  Sam’s a wreck, physically stretched and emotionally drained but there’s nothing but Castiel, himself, and the oxygen that’s been burned clean between them.

            “You are not going to die, Sam.  I won’t give up on you.”  There’s such profound sincerity behind the words that Sam can’t help but pull Cas in as close as he can go, sitting up and cradling him in his arms.

            There really isn’t much that can be said at the moment; Cas’s promise is as solid as stone, and Sam absolutely believes it.  For just a moment they forget about sex, Sam clinging to Cas like a life preserver in a storm while Cas strokes his hair, heart beating rabbit fast and using just a little bit of his Grace to soothe Sam.

            Sam’s the first one to let go.

            “Kiss me, Cas, and don’t stop until…”  Cas knows what he’s implying; they’ve been doing this long enough now to recognize that words don’t add much – and Sam can feel it.  He feels that bond right now, drawing him to Cas like a magnet.  It’s a heady, exciting rush, and the longer Cas is near him the stronger and more irresistible it becomes.

            Cas pushes Sam back down on the bed and climbs on top of him, weight settled right on Sam’s hips and stomach.  He’s got his legs spread wide, swiveling his hips as he ruts and rubs himself against Sam’s body.  Sam kisses him, wrists firmly pinned again.  Cas has gotten better and better at the whole “kiss like we’re a couple of porn stars” thing and each open mouthed kiss makes Sam hungry for another.  It feels like they’re attempting to devour each other, only it makes Sam’s cock even harder where it’s touching Castiel’s backside.

            Sam doesn’t exactly mean to gasp when Castiel breaks the kiss, his chest heaving hard.  Cas kisses his sternum, then moves up his shoulder and up the inside of his arm.  Sam moans Cas’s tongue travels over his armpit, sucking a mark on the inside of his bicep.

            “Like my arms, Cas?’

            “I always have, Sam.”  Cas kisses up and down his bicep and tricep, tongue curving and curling against the definition of muscle.  Sam keeps his arm stretched to its fullest extent, watching Cas move closer and closer to his fingers. 

            “You won’t punch me in the face for this, will you?”  Sam gets a strong sense of deja vu, remembering the same question when he was at Cas’s feet a while back.

            “Course not, baby.”  Sam leans over and kisses Cas’s shoulder.

            Sam previously thought that Cas couldn’t look any more sinful with his mouth full of cock; in a way, this is a lot more intimate.  Sam watches as Cas sucks on his pointer and middle fingers, holding Sam’s big hand still as he slides his tongue in and out of the space between them, over the rough, calloused tips, everything hypersensitive.  It’s better than fellatio, especially since Cas is so close and Sam can see every flicker of his eyes, the warmth, desire – and, dare Sam think it, _devotion._

”Feels so fuckin’ good Cas,” Sam rasps, cock throbbing as Cas opens his mouth wider and sucks in Sam’s ring finger.

            Cas makes a show of swirling his tongue around it, holding it on the bottom joint.  He circles it like Sam’s got a ring there, and for a moment Sam allows himself to think what if. 

            “I think about it too, Sam” Cas whispers, interrupting Sam’s private reverie.  He kisses Sam’s palm, gently biting at the heel and then licking over it, back down the length of his arm.  Sam’s right hand has the same careful attention applied, each finger kissed and loved, sucked on until the spit is starting to run down his forearm.

            “Shit, Cas, got me so fucking hard.”  Sam flexes his cock in conjunction, a drop of precome oozing out onto his treasure trail.  Cas notices out of the corner of his eye, smiling around Sam’s fingers.

            “I think I can do something about that.”

            Cas stops for another kiss to Sam’s mouth on his way, pressing it until their jaws start to hurt.  Sam gets it now – why Cas loves to kiss him so much.  He can feel his molecules responding to Cas, _seeking_ his touch.  It tingles, except it doesn’t, not really.  It’s the anticipation of the feeling, more than anything. 

            Yeah, Sam _gets_ it.

            Cas kisses down his body, giving him a look halfway down that Sam takes to mean as “don’t move.”  He could just as easily hold Sam down with his Grace if he so desired but they’d had more than one long discussion about restraint in bed; Cas knows, and Sam loves him all the more for respecting that choice.  He’s been held down against his will too many times for it to be sexy.

            Not that Cas using his hands to pin his wrists falls under that category, of course.

            Sam finds it astounding that next to each other, his cock is longer than Castiel’s head.  Not that it bothers Cas; he sees it as a challenge.  Still, Sam does fear for him just a little bit – Cas does respirate, and choking the angel with his cock during a blowjob isn’t on his bucket list of “must see things.” 

            And yet, Cas has never once backed down from it.

            Cas teases Sam with licks to his hipbones, his fingers wrapped around Sam’s dick but not moving, simply _there._ They’re warm, from both arousal and Grace, and Sam has to bite his lip and resist pumping into Cas’s hand.  He’s just a little bit of a monster, with the way he licks and bites marks into his inner thighs.  That’s the thing about Cas – the marks he leaves on Sam’s body are in places that no one else can really see.  Sam enjoys that shared intimate knowledge; he’ll be sitting in an interview with a victim and think about the purples hickies on his hipbones, or the teeth marks on his shoulder where he fucked Cas so good and deep that he bit clean through Sam’s skin.

            Sam definitely doesn’t mind a few more, especially since one is like a jolt of electricity that goes straight to his dick.

            Cas looks up from between his legs, his eyes bright in the dim light.  Even during the daytime this part of the bunker is dark unless there’s a light on, and the lamp light just makes Castiel appear all the more alluring.

            “Keep talking, Sam.”  Cas kisses up the left side of Sam’s dick, quick little kisses that pop in the room’s dry air.  He looks up at Sam expectantly, still not jerking him off.

            “Thought you were the one doing the talking today babe,”  Sam smiles and Cas kisses the back of his cock head.

            “And soon my mouth will be full, Sam.”  Cas leans up for just a second, cupping the back of Sam’s head and whispering against his mouth.  “Besides, you’re far better at dirty talk than I am.”

            Sam’s about to put his tongue in Cas’s mouth when Cas is gone again, settling himself between Sam’s spread legs – before Sam can really register what’s happened, Cas has pulled his foreskin down and has his cock halfway in his mouth.  Sam can almost feel his brain turn to mush, Cas’s mouth as soft and warm as it ever was.  For just a moment, Sam’s in utter Nirvana and nothing hurts; it just tingles.

            Cas pulls off, spit at the corners of his mouth and a hungry look in his eyes.  “Sam, please – talk me off while I suck your cock.”  Even the words “suck your cock” from Castiel’s mouth makes something funny turn in Sam’s chest.  Cas really should have a dirty mouth more often.

            Sam collects himself, hands still to either side of his head.  Cas holds eye contact with him as he puts his dick back in his mouth, jaw pushed open wide by Sam’s girth.

            “Look so goddamn pretty with a dick in your mouth, Cas,” Sam starts.  “Swear that God made that mouth just for sucking dick.”  Sam hisses through his teeth as Cas makes it three quarters of the way down, barely able to take him all in where he’s thickest.

            Cas uses his other hand to reach behind himself and rub his hole, using the angle to which he positions his body at to go all the way down.  Sam mutters a quiet _holy shit_ when he feels the end of his cock touch the softer than soft lining of Cas’s throat.  If this is how Cas is going to edge him than shit, he’s at a loss already; he never lasts that long when Cas has his mouth on him.

            “Shit, that’s it baby, work my cock with your throat.  Fucking love to see you take all of me.”  Sam swallows, his mouth gone dry.  He licks his lips and puts a little growl in his voice. 

            “Can feel your goddamn tongue on me Cas – right on that big vein.”  Cas moves his tongue along the underside of Sam’s dick, pressing into it as hard as he can.

            “Yeah, fucking shit baby, tease it with your tongue.”  Sam grabs the pillow from Cas’s side of the bed and puts it under his head, his neck starting to hurt where he’d been looking down.  God, he’d love to jerk Cas off right now – he knows he’s leaking precome like crazy – Cas always does when he sucks Sam off.

            Cas hums, and the vibrations from his voice make Sam see stars.  He feels the beginnings of an orgasm stir, his cock thickening a little in Cas’s already stretched mouth.  Cas pulls off until he’s only got the head in his mouth and he’s squeezing the base of Sam’s cock.  Sam feels the Grace go through his flesh as his orgasm is pushed back, replaced by the deep thrum of arousal and blood pounding in his ears.

            “Too close,” Sam breathes.  Cas just blinks up at him, his pretty pink lips a very close shade to the color of Sam’s cock head.  Cas strokes up, drawing Sam’s foreskin into a bunch between the lower joints his thumb and forefinger.  Sam had gone for most of his life circumcised, until Cas had pulled him out of hell and “remade and rehymenated” much the same as Dean had been.  Sam suspects that it was done largely because Cas wanted to find new ways to make him squirm with pleasure. Nevertheless, Sam remains eternally grateful to Cas for making him whole again.

            Cas’s tongue darts out to tease the loose skin, the tip going in past where he’s holding it.  Sam feels it against his slit, watching Cas’s tongue move under his hood and bulge it out.   He tries to speak but Cas has him so disoriented with pleasure that he has to stop and start twice.

            “Fucking love it when you tease my foreskin baby, looks so damn hot with your tongue under it.”  Sam feels his toes curl when Cas hits his frenulum, drawing the skin back down and flicking his tongue over it, open mouthed and his eyes half closed.

            Cas blows cold air over the head, swirls his tongue over it, and then repeats the process a couple more times; all of it drives Sam a little more crazy, a little more desperate for Cas to make him come.

            “You’re mean,” Sam grunts, all the while Cas managing to look perfectly innocent in spite of the dick in his mouth.

            “Not yet, Sam.”  Cas pulls a perfectly pornographic move, sticking his tongue out and smacking Sam’s cock against it.  Spit and precome flies away in little droplets.  If pressed, Sam could probably beat off to that image alone for the rest of his life (what remains of it) and never have to hunt down porn again.  Cas looks like he’s having the time of his life, and before Sam can get another word out, Cas has moved down further between Sam’s legs.

            “Where you going babe?”

            Cas grins, putting his hands under Sam’s thighs and pushing up.  “Nowhere.”

            Sam knows that’s a lie, a dirty, dirty lie.

            He doesn’t mind getting rimmed, truly.  Hell, if anything Cas is even better at eating him out then he is at blowing dick; it’s just that Sam’s much more of a giver in bed and being on the receiving end makes him feel kind of bad for just lying there. 

            The thoughts perish when Sam feels Cas’s tongue lick over his perineum and make his brain go all fuzzy again.

            Cas jerks him off while he rims him, not holding back quite as much as when he had his mouth stuffed full of dick.  Sam can’t help but pull at the sheets, Grace being pushed into his body and warming him from the outside in.  Cas’s wings finally manifest and they ripple gently as Cas shifts and finds a more comfortable position, opening Sam up little by little.  He has no intention of fucking Sam – Cas is a bottom through and through – but making Sam writhe on his tongue is just too damned good to not make happen.

            “God, Castiel-“  Sam can’t ever get words out with Cas’s tongue in him, hoping that the unashamedly loud noises he’s making will suffice.  He’ll catch hell later from Dean for it, he’s sure; right now he doesn’t give a fuck.

            Cas sets in to licking Sam’s hole like a popsicle, his hair flattened with spit around it; Sam feels a little too exposed, with his legs in the air and Cas’s breath making him clench around nothing.  He’s as close as he’s been to coming since Cas woke him up half an hour ago, the need turning into a deep seated ache.

            But he’s in Castiel’s hands, and that doesn’t mean he comes until the dirty fucker lets him.

            “Got me so goddamn close, Cas.”  Sam’s painfully aware of how high and tightly his balls are drawn up, his dick throbbing in Cas’s hand.

            “Soon, Sam, I promise.”  Cas drive his tongue in deep, licking in and fucking the tip in and out.  Sam howls, his body right on the threshold of oversensitivity.  Grace keeps every nerve ending super-receptive, his whole body tingling.  The sunlight of angelic presence he felt earlier is a million tiny pinpricks, covering him from head to toe.  Cas’s influence or not, Sam knows he can’t hold out much longer.

            “Cas, baby, I’m-“

            “I know.”  Another long, slow lick up from Sam’s hole and Cas is on his cock again.  Sam feels it when his Grace lets go and the dam bursts.  He fucks up into Cas’s mouth, fingers dug hard into the mattress underneath him.  Cas hums with him, jerking Sam off as fast as he can. 

            The sunlight dissolves him, his orgasm burning everything up and for a few long seconds, Sam ceases to exist; Cas swallows him deep, not a drop wasted.  Sam feels the scratchiness in his throat when he comes back down, his whole body covered in a sheen of sweat.  Cas still has his cock in his mouth, pumping him through the aftershocks.

            “Shh…shit…Cas, that…” 

            Cas comes up the bed and kisses Sam on the lips, quick and chaste.  It’s only a little bit at odds with what he’s been doing to Sam, and it brings Sam’s focus back.

            “Wanna come in my mouth, Cas?”  Sam licks his lips and smiles up at him, already reaching for Cas’s cock.

            Right as Cas is about to say “please” Sam flips them, holding Cas down by his hips and bobbing his head up and down on Cas’s thick cock, so damp and sticky with precome that Sam’s soft lips slide easily over him.  Cas holds onto Sam’s head, fingers threaded through his hair and right as the burn in his scalp starts to hurt, Cas comes, a string of Enochian and Greek spilling out of his mouth.  Cas tastes sweet today, and Sam only swallows half.

            The rest is going back in Cas’s mouth.

            Sam kisses Cas, hard, mouth wide open for him to lick in and taste.  Sam sits in his lap, holding each other close while the spit and come runs down their chins.  Sam feels his dick try to swell again in interest but he’s at his limit, edged to completion, his whole body aching pleasantly as he sits back and beholds Cas’s sticky chin and lips.

            “So,” Sam says, “why don’t we start every day that way?”

            Cas scritches Sam’s chest hair as he rests their foreheads together.  “Because we don’t always have that sort of time.”

            “Too bad, really.”  Sam puts his arms around Cas and kisses him again.  “Are you okay if we stay here a while?”

            “Of course.”

            Dean only lectures them for about an hour when they finally emerge sometime around noon.

___

            Peace is a lie.

            Sam kind of thinks it’s awful that a fictional code – the Sith Code from Star Wars, according to Dean – is what applies to his life most aptly.  It wouldn’t even follow him into death.  No, he’s died already, and death wasn’t peaceful then.  It was a millennia in Hell, followed by more torment on earth and even after his mind had been readjusted, he still wasn’t at peace.

            He supposes there should be some consolation in the fact that he’s still here to think about it.  If anything, his body’s free of disease and the Trials and broken angels who did nothing but deceive.  Physically, he’s fine.  Emotionally there isn’t much he can do aside from start to put the pieces back together.

            His chest hurts where his tattoo was burned off, Cas’s handprint still on it.  Crowley had been inside him, negotiating with Gadreel and doing God knows what else.  No doubt he looked in on some of Sam’s private thoughts while he was in there because that’s what people do – violate his agency.  It’s status quo at this point, kind of has been since he was old enough to recognize it.  It sucks and he hates the world right now and he’s _tired._ This isn’t like during the Trials tired, or battling demons and werewolves and all sorts of other shit tired.  It’s a tired that comes from lack of respect, lack of consent, and lack of asking his goddamn opinion before he’s told what’s going to happen.

            The road back to Lebanon is a long one, and he’s still wet from the rain.  Cas is stone silent next to him, hands in his lap and looking out the windshield; Sam may as well not even be there.  He feels terrible, not only for himself but for Cas as well.  Cas had his angelic status stripped, his life reduced to mere humanity again, and then his home – as much as the bunker is to him anyway – taken away when Dean kicked him out.  Sam wishes he didn’t know what that felt like, the hurt of having those basic needs and comforts taken away.  He’d offer up some advice, some words but he just doesn’t know what to say to him.  What makes it worse is that Sam knows him so, so intimately, the way he looks when he’s resting, when he’s turned on, when he’s burning with the quest for knowledge – but he can’t say a damned thing, because there isn’t anything to say.

            There hadn’t been any time together since the angels fell.  Gadreel hadn’t allowed that, and even though Sam remembers encountering Cas when he was… possessed… it hadn’t been intimate.  When Sam had wrongly been lead to believe he had control over his own self, there hadn’t been time or room for Cas.

            That’s the part that Sam hates most, because it looks and probably feels like he wants nothing to do with Cas anymore.

            Sam knows that literally on a cellular level, he should feel it – that draw towards Castiel.  It should be powerful and undeniable and in spite of everything that’s happened, at least a flicker of it.

            Except he doesn’t, and it’s kind of eating him up inside.

            He’s stewing in his thoughts when the low fuel light comes on and they have to stop.

            “Shit,” Sam mutters.  The last town was fifteen miles back and how much gas means low fuel in the old clunker that Cas picked out is guesswork at best.

            Cas opens his eyes, having been withdrawn into his own mind.  “Is something the matter?”

            “Yeah – almost out of gas.”  Sam pulls over while the GPS on his phone tracks their location and hopefully, a Citgo or something.

            “Would you like me to look for one?”  Cas is already starting to get out of the car as the night air crackles and shimmers with the manifestation of his wings.

            “You really don’t-“

            Cas is already gone by the time Sam even gets the second word out.  Sam sighs, leaning back into the old leather seat.  It squeaks a bit as he shifts, already pushed back into its furthest position to account for his long legs.  If it wasn’t raining he’d get out and stretch but he’s already doused and without a change of clothes.  Tack that onto the long list of crap that just shouldn’t be in his life.

            Sam rubs his eyes and checks his phone for any messages – this whole Mark of Cain thing Dean’s on has him more than worried, not to mention upset.  It’s always the end justifies the means, becoming unspeakably evil – or worse – in the meantime just being a hazard of the job.  They’ve both walked on the knife edge of the dark side before but this time, Dean was a little too quick to take the task on.  It makes Sam’s stomach hurt, to know he’s so willing to do it. 

            It’s just unfortunate that a self-destructive attitude is encoded in their genes, Sam muses.  Honestly, he’s tired of it being in their make-up.

            He’s starting to doze a little when Cas returns, more sodden than before and knocking on Sam’s window.  His sudden appearance makes him jump a little, and Cas offers up an apologetic look.

            “Ten miles ahead, Sam.  They also have a microwave for something hot to eat.”

            Any port in a storm.  Hey, it’s literal at the moment.

            Cas gets back in the car, sodden to the bone but looking nonetheless triumphant.  “I thought it would expedite the process if I flew.”

            Sam actually gives him a little smile as he starts the car up.  “Helps to have a guardian angel.”

            “I believe that in this context I am a GPS angel.”

            Castiel is so sincere that Sam actually laughs, the action feeling almost foreign to him.  Cas laughs with him, all the way to the BP that’s gleaming like a green savior in the night.

            Sam hands Cas forty dollars.  “Thirty five in gas, and the rest for something to eat, alright?  Having angels banished from yourself is hungry work.”

            Cas clutches the wad of bills like they’re parts of the Ark.  Of the Covenant or Noah’s, Sam’s not sure which.

            “I will return shortly.”

            Sam pushes his wet hair out of his eyes and starts to fill up, the pump ticking loudly as the smell of gasoline fills the air.  He looks around, checks the area, one, two, three times; never know when something might come after you while refueling.  Sam’s got a knife on one hip and a pistol tucked into his waistband; it’s not the armament he’s worried about, it’s his reflexes.

            “I’m back.”

            Sam was concentrating so hard on not closing his eyes that he didn’t even notice Cas’s return. 

            “That was quick.”

            “I was the only patron.  The clerk said to give you this, on the house.”  Castiel brandishes a steaming cup of coffee and two warm corndogs, all of it smelling absolutely wonderful even over the pungent scent of gasoline.

            “How’d you get these?”  The coffee’s loaded with cream and sugar but Sam honestly doesn’t care – it tastes wonderful.  The corndogs aren’t too hard either, the moisture still making the breading soft.

            Cas clears his throat, hands shoved in his pockets as he looks down at the ground.  “I played for sympathy – I told her that we were on our way back from our honeymoon.”

            Sam’s heart, just for a moment, stops beating because while it’s an utter lie, it’s really kind of sweet.

            “Those undercover skills are uh, really sticking aren’t they?”  Even Sam’s surprised by how quietly the words come out.

            The slightest hint of disappointment creeps into Castiel’s eyes.  “I have learned from the best, after all.”

            Sam sits his coffee on the roof of the car and takes Cas’s hand for just a moment.  “You did great, Cas.”

            Cas squeezes back, his fingers warm on Sam’s knuckles.  “Thank you, Sam.”

            Sam almost leans forward to kiss him but… he’s just not ready.

            Not yet.

            The silence the rest of the way home is even louder than it was before.

___

            Coming back to the Bunker after so many months of not really being “there” is bittersweet.  Kevin’s gone, Dean’s gone, and now it just seems… empty.  Cas is there, somewhat omnipresent but never to the point of being intrusive; it’s a big place, and Sam can find himself alone quite easily.

            He has to run his fingers over all the books, the surfaces of his room, the kitchen – it’s the first time he’s lived here and not been under the influence of angels or preordained missions from above.  Dean wonders why Sam doesn’t really consider it a home – home should be safe, not the place you lick your wounds while waiting to go back out and deal with the world all over again.  Hell, they could do that in hotel rooms.

            In spite of all that, Sam still finds himself with Cas in the same room anyway. 

            Cas – now that he’s had some experience with being human – has been desperately trying to fuse human/angel sensation.  Well, perhaps not desperately but for the time being, Castiel’s curiosity has the better of him.  Sam watches, smiling inwardly.  He’s learned to cook a little for himself, Sam trusting him to not burn the kitchen down (he’s not a helpless baby, in spite of what Dean says) and maybe even try some of what Cas comes up with.  As it turns out, he makes an alright bowl of macaroni and cheese.

            “Molecules,” Cas mutters.  “All I taste is molecules.”  He’s eating peanut butter and jelly, seated at the table in the library.  Sam sits on the edge of the table and swipes his finger through the peanut butter; creamy, not crunchy.

            As it should be. Why on earth Dean gets all worked up over the crunchy stuff is beyond Sam.

            “Perks of being an angel – you get to taste things at the subatomic level.”

            “The subatomic level tastes awful.”  Cas sighs and takes another bite anyway.  He frowns while chewing, his eyes crinkling and God, Sam could so easily reach out and brush his fingers through his hair right now.  Since Gadreel was vamoosed from his body, there hasn’t exactly been many base urges he’s been raring to take care of.

            Then again, for the last couple days Sam has been remembering quite vividly the beautiful planes of Cas’s body, the way their hands feel against each other’s skin, the deep, intense kisses…

            Sam has to bite his tongue before his thoughts can go any further.

            Cas looks down at the remains of his sandwich and stands.  “We need to talk about Gadreel.”

            Sam finds out there’s still Grace left in him, enough to perhaps track down their rogue angel.  He’s warned about the extraction and how it might be rough on him; Sam’s so used to hearing the words “it might kill you” that it’s gotten to the point where he’s half surprised when he comes out of it unscathed.

            It hurts like hell, of course – and Sam knows unfortunately well exactly what hell feels like.

            The thing is, he doesn’t focus on the needle going into his neck, nor the pain of having pure Grace being pulled through his skin.  No, he focuses on Castiel’s hand laid across his forehead, its comforting presence making the process just a little easier to bear.  His fingers are cool, contrasting sharply to the sweat running down Sam’s back right now.  They stay there until Cas is finished, pushing his hair back from his face and lingering, Sam half-conscious and aware enough of their proximity to each other.

            Somewhere deep inside, Sam feels that shift, the longing coming back and warming his body from his toes upwards.

            _Nothing is worth losing you._

Standing there in front of Cas, in the library – those words are powerful.  Sam’s arms go around Cas’s body, the angel so surprised at his action that Sam has to say “this is where you hug back.”

            And Cas does.

            The sense of _rightness_  Sam gets from feeling Castiel’s body against his makes him close his eyes and drink him in – so for a moment, Sam does.  He smells Castiel’s neck, his hair, sensations that haven’t been courted in a long time waking up and making Sam’s heart beat a little faster.  He removes his hands and puts them under Cas’s jacket, nothing between them and Cas’s body but the thin layer of his shirt.  He moves them down to just above Castiel’s hips, feeling the smooth curve of where Cas’s ribcage ends and his hips begin.

            Sam doesn’t even realize he’s shaking until Cas nuzzles his neck and kisses his collarbone.

            “Sam?”

            Sam picks his head up and looks Cas in the eye, his mouth hanging open.

            “I’m…”

            Sam isn’t sure what he is, so Castiel saves him from a reply by putting a hand on the back of Sam’s neck and drawing him down for a kiss.

            Kissing Cas has always been a little addictive, a little too good.  Sam hates to use the term _junkie_  but when he feels Castiel’s mouth moving against his to let Sam’s tongue in it’s like he’s getting a fix that he was only half aware of missing.  Cas moans when Sam bends him backwards a little, taking the two steps backwards to lean against the table, his legs spreading for Sam to stand between them.  There’s a lot of delight to be had in the way Cas ruts against his thigh, and Sam lets him.

            The kiss doesn’t break as Sam reaches up and pushes Cas’s jacket and coat off, leaving him in just his dress shirt.  It’s been ages since he wore a tie so unbuttoning it is made easy, and Sam can’t get it off of him fast enough.  Cas helps by leaning his shoulders back as Sam pushes it down his arms and off his body.

            “Sam-“ Cas starts, only for Sam to shush him a second later.  He know what he’s going to ask.

            “I’m here, Cas, I’m… here.  And yeah, I’m still nuts about you.”  Sam crosses his arms and lifts his shirt up over his head, throwing it to the floor.  Cas’s hands are on his body before Sam’s even stripped it off, laid on his hips and bringing him back in.  It kind of hurts that Cas had to doubt him but given the circumstances, can the guy really be blamed?

            Something about being bare-chested with Cas makes Sam giddy, skin rubbing skin as Sam gets his hands under Cas’s thighs and lifts him.  He’s more than a little surprised at the fact that he can pick Cas up like this – all for the better, especially since it means he has more strength returning.

            Cas holds on to his neck, legs wrapped around Sam’s trim waist.  He kisses Sam’s shoulders and face while Sam carries him to his room, pressing him against the door once they’re in and kissing Cas deeply again.  He can feel the tidal wave behind the wall, threatening to burst – they’re both scaling it back just a little, taking a few calm-ish moments before they dive in.  Sam smiles against Cas’s mouth; it’s always like this, waiting to see who will overwhelm the other first.  Sam remembers edging – and being edged – and that does it.

            “Don’t think I want to wait today, babe.”  Sam carries Cas over to the bed and they go down together, Cas looking as happy as anything to be under Sam.

            Cas cups Sam’s face, stilling him for a moment.  “I only have one request, Sam.”

            Sam kisses him as he murmurs “anything Cas, just name it.”

            “I want you to use the cock ring – your absence has been very… strongly felt.”  It’s almost better than saying “I want to feel your big fat cock inside me.”

            Sam kisses Cas tenderly for just a second before he gets up and strips the rest of the way off, kicking his shoes and socks off while digging around in his bedside table.  The ring is still there, unused for months now, snug around a bottle of lube.  There are a few condoms in the drawer too but tonight isn’t one of those nights – Cas has that “I want you bare and raw and balls deep” look in his eyes.

            Cas is laying back on the bed, naked as he can be with one hand behind his head and the other on his cock, stroking himself as he watches Sam.

            “I know it might sound ironic, but Gadreel did return your body to its former glory.”  Sam watches Cas’s gaze rake down over his chest and stomach, his abdominal muscles standing out with definition that Sam has long taken secret pride in.  Sam flexes for Cas’s benefit, his cock bouncing as the muscles pull and relax.

            “Guess you have to be strong to contain one of God’s chosen, right?’  Sam makes his pecs bounce – just because he can – while he puts the ring on, snugging it around the shaft and bring his balls through.  It’s obscenely tight on him, pulling his foreskin all the way back and causing all of the veins to stand out.  Cas discretely tries to wipe his mouth but Sam catches him, smiling as he climbs back on the bed, lube in hand.

            “It’s alright baby – I miss being perved on by you.”     Sam leans down and kisses Cas, pressing their palms together and their fingers locking while they rut.  Sam gets goosebumps when he feels their cocks line up, slick with precome and thick with arousal.

            “I don’t like the word ‘perving’ – I enjoy admiring you, whether it’s in a sexual context or not.”  Cas gasps when Sam moves down and sucks on his right nipple, kissing the mole next to it before he comes back up to his mouth.

            “Alright – admiring.”  Sam opens the lube up with one hand before he moves so that he’s lying next to Cas, his wet fingers rubbing Cas’s hole.  Cas’s grip on Sam’s left hand tightens, above his head while Sam uses his right to prep his body.

            “Next time an angel takes up unwarranted residence inside me Cas, tell him to fuck off when we want to do this, alright?”  Sam sucks on Cas’s tongue as he slides a finger into his hole.  He’d kind of forgotten how tight and hot Cas was, and being refreshed is almost as good as the real thing.

            “Noted.”  Cas moans as he feels himself be stretched, his wings coming out and laying out wide to either side.  Sam kisses down the back of Cas’s neck where he sits up a little, licking at the space between the roots.  Cas reaches behind himself and presses Sam into his back, using his other hand to keep Sam’s finger where it is.

            “More,” he demands, and Sam obliges.  Two in, and he twists them just a little, curling his tongue over Cas’s left oil gland.  It burns his lips a little, making him aware for the thousandth time that Cas isn’t human, could end Sam with a snap of his fingers – but instead he’s letting Sam put his mouth to the most intimate parts of his body, tasting and touching.

            Cas clenches on Sam’s fingers, hard enough to where Sam stops licking his back.  “Easy does it, babe.”

            “Hurry,” is all Cas says.  Sam comes back around so that he’s in between Cas’s spread legs again.

            “Don’t have to tell me twice.”  Sam squirts more lube onto his fingers and three go in, gently fucking them in and out.  Cas swears, his hands full of the sheets, neck bared for Sam.  Sam kisses his throat, his hair falling forward to tickle Cas’s cheeks as he does.  Cas lets go of the blankets long enough to guide Sam back to his mouth, moaning and gasping loud enough to make Sam’s teeth rattle a little.

            They’re still like that when Sam takes his fingers out and wets his cock with lube, holding himself steady as he pushes as quickly as he dares into Cas’s body.

            Sam remembers the first time they did this like it was yesterday – those long, awful days leading up to the aborted apocalypse, Cas drunk off his ass ( _a liquor store, Sam_ ) and the next day when they had come to an understanding.  Cas didn’t want to fight, didn’t even hate Sam – heaven had been wrong from the start.  It had been odd as hell, to just… do that with each other but it felt _right._

It hasn’t stopped feeling right since.

            Cas gets a little squirmy as Sam gets halfway – where he’s thickest – and he has to put a hand to Sam’s chest.  Sam stops for a second, rubbing Cas’s chest and shoulders where he’s paused.

            “You…”  Cas takes a deep breath before he slowly lets it back out.  “You are far larger than I remember.”

            “Cock ring.”  Sam reaches down and tugs it back a little bit more, just in case there wasn’t enough of him through it.

            “I know – but it has been a long time.”  There’s a little sadness in his voice that makes Sam lean down to kiss him.

            “Too long.”  Sam applies a little more lube, feeling it run off his cock and onto the bed.  Cas gets his hands on Sam’s hips and starts to pull forward, gently.

            “I’m ready.”

            Sam doesn’t stop until the silicone of his ring is touching Cas’s body, legs spread so wide that Sam almost aches in sympathy for him.  Cas’s eyes are shut, body pulsating with arousal and the acts of breathing and accommodating Sam all at the same time.  Sam reaches out to caress Cas’s cheeks, his lips, ghosting his fingers over his eyelids before they open up again.  His pupils are dark and his hair is messy where Sam had his fingers in it earlier.  It should make Cas look debauched and dirty; instead he just looks more beautiful.

            “How’d you want it, Cas?”  Sam leans down so that his mouth hovers a bare inch over Castiel’s.

            “Hard, Sam.”

            It comes back to him in stages, finding that right rhythm that holds Cas on the thin line of too much and too little.  Sam has to adjust for stiffness in his joints – he’s not back up to a hundred percent quite yet – and Cas trying to meet him on every thrust.  The bond that Cas talked about what seems like a lifetime ago – Sam feels it more vividly than he had before.  It’s truth, it’s divine will, it’s _correct_ – and Sam can feel them trying to fuse together, atom for atom, thrust for thrust.  The sound of their bodies meeting over and other is almost rhythmic, loudly so.

            Cas’s fingernails digging into his back demand more, and Sam tries his hardest to give.  The kiss they’ve been holding since Sam started to fuck Cas through the mattress breaks, breath hot against each other’s cheeks.  Sam’s hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, his eyes open so that he can see it – the moment when Cas goes over the edge and pulls Sam with him.

            Sam slows down, re-angling himself so that he knows he’s hitting Cas’s prostate; it’s that warmer-than-the-rest-of-him spot, perfectly aligned with the slight curve of Sam’s dick.

            “I’m close, Sam.”  Cas swallows, his blue eyes almost cerulean.

            “Together.”  Sam reaches down and jerks Cas’s dick, twisting and rubbing his thumb over the slit, the space between his fingers filled with Cas’s loose foreskin.  Cas bites his own lip, a silent _fuck_  half formed, almost uttered-

            Cas comes with such force that both he and Sam get doused, the spatter audible on the sheets and pillows.  Sam tries to keep moving as he comes too, only Cas’s body tightens up around him so that he can’t and he’s left to shudder and arch while supporting himself on arms that are threatening to give out.

            Cas helps by pulling him to his face and kissing him.  Sam licks the come off of his cheeks and mouth before Cas locks him in too strong, though.  Tasting him like that makes Sam’s dick try to harden itself again in Castiel’s ass, and the action makes him aware of just how long he’s beein in the ring.

            “Hang on a second,” Sam mutters, reaching down and extracting himself from the cock ring.  He looks at Cas’s hole push his come out and it’s not his fault at all when he leans down to lick it up.  It’s not exactly like Cas is dirty down there.

            An hour of come swapping and another mutual handjob later, Sam collapses exhausted next to Cas, only somewhat aware of the fact he’s lying in semen – _a lot_ of semen.  Angelic kegel muscles are a blessing, really.

            “So,” Sam says after a few minutes, talking to the fuzzy mess of black hair laying on his chest.  “There’s something I wanted to talk about.”

            Cas doesn’t move from his current position.  “I’m listening.”

            “Firstly, you’re not subtle.  Secondly, yes.”

            Cas shuffles himself so that he’s mostly looking at Sam.  “Yes?”

            “The whole fellating my ring finger, passing us off as husbands – yes.”  Sam can barely contain the smile that’s spreading across his face.  “I know it can’t be necessarily legal on paper but… yeah, I want that.”

            Surprise – at least complete surprise – doesn’t often register on Castiel’s face.  Right now it lights him up, his whole being radiating happiness.  “Are you sure, Sam?”

            “Gotta have something to hold onto, babe – and it may as well be this.”

            It doesn’t take long for Cas to start referring to himself as Castiel Winchester.

Sam’s more than at peace with it.


End file.
